#I think that slamming it against a table or a wall would feel nice like i might not think ever again... /i'm never fucking doing it!!
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TO DULL THE SHOVELS & SMOKE
Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Female Reader
Prompt: In which Simon Riley doesn’t hear the gunshots and yells when he’s around his next door neighbor.
Words: 4.2k
Warnings: Graphic descriptions of gore, mentions of torture based on the Ghost comics, drinking, major PTSD.
At first, it annoyed him.
The thin walls of his Manchester apartment blocked absolutely no sound. From one end, near his desolate kitchen, he heard the half-arsed sounds of a couple at all hours of the night. At the other end, nearly midnight on the dot, a bow would pull over strings.
He thought it to be a violin, but the sound was so horrendous and screeching that he couldn’t quite figure it out. Never less, he couldn’t find it in himself to move from the spot on his hard mattress.
It wasn’t like he could sleep anyways.
Gunshots bled into his ears warm and sticky, curses and cries of civilians slammed against his chest and made his eyes feel like sinking weights. Bombs screeched and blinded him, even though he could see the shadows of his wardrobes and chipped wallpaper.
He was there. On the battlefield.
That was until a particularly awful note would catch his ears, digging through all the horrible sounds of war.
It would make the corners of his lips perk up, especially when he heard the gentle curse of the “musician.” He figured horrible orchestral music would do rather than gunshots. He even managed to acquire at least an hour of sleep before he was stirred awake again by the sounds of death.
He’d wake up as he always did. A horrific grunt and a call for his teammates. It was pathetic, but the usual. Simon couldn’t recall the last time he woke up refreshed. He hadn’t slept well in decades, even his childhood was thrashed with harassment from his father who kept him up. He maybe had a couple good nights of rest as a recruit, while his brother and mother were still alive and his father was long gone festering in the hospital with cancer.
Still he was used to the dark circles under his eyes and the constant urge to yawn.
He’d gone about his civilian life as he usually did. Wake up in a sweat, take a cold shower, drink some breakfast tea, and watch the news. That was until three knocks sounded from his door chipping green paint. He had half the mind to ignore it, Simon didn’t know anyone around the area— After all, he was a Ghost. He chewed on his lip, If it was a threat they wouldn’t have knocked. He settled on placing his steaming mug on the wooden side table and huffing to stand. Curiosity won him over as his creaky joints shuffled its way over to the door.
He creaked it open only a couple inches, cautiously glancing around to see no one in the hallway. Scratching his five o’clock shadow, he blinked, feeling slightly paranoid that maybe he was imaging the knocking. That was until his dark eyes settled upon a half open box of what looked to be tea bags.
A note lay scotch taped to the front, written in the most interesting handwriting Simon had seen.
Heard the screams, I won’t pretend to know what it’s like. I figured you wouldn’t want me to pester you, so I’ll save you from the awkward small talk and leave these here. Not sure if you’re a tea person, but they help me sleep.
-your next door neighbor
He couldn’t find himself to move for a short while. His brain clashed in conflicts, as if he couldn’t settle on a single emotion to feel. It swarmed him at once— annoyance, embarrassment, gratitude.
His neighbor had took time out of their day to drop tea off at his door. He tried to think back to when the last time someone had done something genuinely nice for him. Besides his makeshift family of broken soldiers, he couldn’t think of a single occurrence. Zeroing in on the box, a twitch in his nose gave away his reluctance of the flavor. Lavender and Chamomile. So different than his simple breakfast tea.
But, it wouldn’t hurt to try it. Maybe then he’d be able to silently thank the mysterious neighbor for a good night of sleep.
He figured out who you were when he’d exited the shaky and completely unsafe lift onto his floor. In the crook of his arm he carried a brown paper sack full of his weekly groceries. It wasn’t the most fanciful of ingredients, the most extravagant being simple cuts of chicken breasts. He’d shoved the bag further into his grasp, reaching into his dark colored jeans for his room key when he heard your muffled curse.
You were hunched over your doorknob, pulling helplessly on the metal to unlock it. Hurriedly he changed his footfalls, switching from silent to knowingly hitting the creaks in the aged carpet. Your head tilted at the unpleasant noise, eyes widening in embarrassing anticipation.
It took Simon a moment to truly access the situation. It was as if his brain had slammed into a wall, colliding and knocking all of his thoughts astray. When he finally did come to his senses, the only thought he could repeat was— pretty.
Simon would be the first to admit that he had not been around many women in his life. Therefore, he didn’t have much to draw comparisons to—regardless you had to be the most beautifully unique person he had ever seen.
You wore a knitted sweater, likely homemade by the barely noticeable tears of threads and flaws. His eyes filtered down to your jeans, then his attention drew to the absolutely ridiculous socks clad to your feet and ankles. Bright purple, decorated with pink polka dots. He’d glanced up, embarrassingly distracted enough to not be able to listen to your moving lips.
“Hmm?” He grunted, thankful for his black surgical mask that covered half of his face. He felt secure being covered, as if all the bad things couldn’t penetrate through the flimsy material.
“Oh! Sorry for mumbling,” you apologized, which made Simon’s head tilt to the side. Why apologize for his lack of hearing?
You cleared your throat, releasing the doorknob from your hands and instead twisting them together in a nervous habit. It seemed you could hardly sit still, all in the span of thirty seconds Simon caught on to your spastic fingers and tapping foot.
“I don’t suppose you know how to pick a lock?” You squeaked, instantly cringing at the horribly put together question.
“Excuse me?” Simon spoke, a hint of surprised amusement coating his tongue. Of course he knew how to break into buildings and pick locks, but you didn’t need to know that.
“I uh, locked myself out of my apartment. I forgot my purse and I keep my keys in there. I was just in a rush for food before my favorite place closes, and well— I’m rambling.” You sputtered, looking like it would be a better option to break through your door than stand under his burning stare.
He didn’t expect himself to extend towards you, settling his bag of groceries on the floor near his door. You slid out the way as he approached, not before he caught a pleasant whiff of lavender and something floral.
Simon shuffled in the pocket of his jeans, pulling out a floss pick from the material. Call it his nagging habit, but he hated having shit in his teeth. He wasn’t used to eating or drinking with his balaclava on at work, so on the rare occasions he ate, it absolutely irritated him. Now the floss pick came in handy as he bent the hard plastic to fit into the lock of your door.
He was aware of your stare as he lay crouched, catching the puzzled yet intrigued look from his peripherals.
“Are you some type of cop?” You blurted, making Simon’s lips peek up in a half arsed amusement. A cop? This girl was funny.
“No,”
With a final click, your door creaked open with a whine of its hinges. He rose off the old carpet with a sigh, immediately going back to his groceries so he could be left in his solitude. Then before he could reach down and pick up the bag, your words cut him short.
“Thank you. Um… did you like the tea?” It was a simple question, but not one he was expecting. “It was alright.” He lied, the untouched box still rested on his cold countertops.
“You didn’t like it did you?” You chuckled, reading right through him. All he gave was a shrug of his shoulders, not confirming nor denying. “I knew it. You probably drink your tea black and food bland.” You teased lightheartedly, making an equally playful offended sound fall from Simon’s lips. It occurred to him that he’d smiled more in these last five minutes than he had in a whole year.
“It’s only for mature palates.” He heard himself joke, nearly shocked at his own behavior.
“Sure…” You introduced yourself at last, finally able to have a name to your face. “Simon,” he only thought it fair to state his own. Although it sounded weird coming off his lips instead of the usual introductory Ghost.
“Well Simon, if you’re ever on Bakers Street, there’s a Korean Barbecue place that is delicious. Now that’s real food. I’ll just have to wait until tomorrow since I pulled this stunt. And thanks again!” You smiled, an awkward wave marking your goodbye.
Simon nodded and entered his dark flat, once again drawn into his own mind and the sound of warfare.
He made sure, a few days later to pay you back for your kind words and the disgusting tea. He knocked on your door, hurriedly rushing back to his own and out of sight, hoping the white takeout box of barbecue would make your evening.
He had a particularly rough morning on an autumn rainy day. The chill of the air and racket of raindrops on the window was enough to startle him awake. He was reminded of the cold chill of Russia, as well as the raindrops hitting way too similar to the sound of bullets. It nerved him, nearly taking him several minutes to be able to breathe properly again.
He’d done what his therapist had mentioned, pinpointing colors, sounds, and textures.
Yellowing wallpaper, humming ventilation, scratchy blanket.
Gray clouds, rattling ceiling fan, his own warm skin.
With a sigh, he curled his palm over his eyes, rubbing away the awful reoccurring night terrors, and settling for getting dressed. He wore the simple clothes he always did, black hoodie, jeans, and boots. Simple, yet effective.
He grew rather sick of the walls of his apartment. The plaster suffocated him, the air suddenly too stuffy. For a short moment he was stuck in that coffin again, maggots wriggling at his flesh and the scent of rotten meat flooding his nostrils.
He stood suddenly, attempting to calm himself. He was in Manchester, he was standing. Something he couldn’t do in a coffin. It was a shitty autumn day with rain battering his window sill. He wasn’t in the desert, he wasn’t half dead. He was here.
He let his body lead him out the door with no destination. All his mind happened to scream was out, out, out.
He’d barely been able to grab the door handle and twist, fingers shaking in such a pathetic way it had him wrinkling his nose. He was underwater, shoved into the bucket as they held him under, making him lose his breath and weakly fight.
No he was here. Manchester! In Manchester.
“Simon?”
He was suddenly lifted up, finally able to push the freezing water out of his lungs and suck down oxygen. His head swiveled weakly to you, eyes likely looking dead and cold.
You were dressed warm. A coffee-colored sweater swaddling your form and a burnt orange cardigan hanging from your shoulders as well. You wore typical jeans and slip-ons, but bright orange knitted socks peaked from your jeans. They were even littered with pumpkins and leaves designs. 
He hummed in your acknowledgment, letting himself worry about his breathing once again. Colors, sounds, textures.
Orange Cardigan, your slow breathing, soft knitted socks.
“Are you okay?” You’d squeaked, barely audible over his massive heaving breathes. He instinctively nodded his head, knowing that if he showed any sign of weakness he’d be terminated. That’s how it’s been since he was four years old, being terrified of his father but not being able to express such fear.
“You know, it’s okay to not be okay.” You read right through him. Taking an inching step towards him. He said nothing, still shocked that you hadn’t left in a disgusted manner. He was weak and terrifyingly broken, and yet your sweet gaze never broke into pity.
Orange cardigan, quiet steps, smooth skin against his wrist.
He’d instantly felt relief from the lack of stinging pressure against his palm. Not realizing he’d been digging his nails into the calloused flesh, causing angry red crescents to print into his skin.
“Would you like a tea? I was about to go to the place across the street?”
His mind screeched no. He wanted so badly to be alone. To break something, to laugh as he bloodied his knuckles. He also wanted to shield his too pleasant neighbor from his violent tendencies. To keep her from him, to protect her. But his cold and dead heart managed to thaw and break all in one. The vile organ spoke for him as he found his head bobbing, lungs sucking in a big breath.
“M’kay.” He mumbled, following after your sweet lavender perfume down the lift like a sickly bloodhound.
He’d followed like a shell, hardly memorizing the turns and passing civilians until he was blasted with warm air from a cozy little cafe. He was slammed with comfort instantly, thrown back into the present world instead of the bloodied one he was used to seeing in his mind.
String lights hung above your head, illuminating your warm skin and kind smile. You’d ushered him to sit in the far corner, the leather booth squishy and comfortable. Simon had tuned into the fluttering orchestra of some jazz band, relaxing his bones and tired muscles only slightly.
Golden lights, swaying music, brewing coffee.
He startled when a thick paper cup slid in front of him, the fresh scent of breakfast tea relaxing him further, among with the smiling face blinking at him.
“Got your favorite, bland breakfast tea.” You quipped, taking a sip of your own lavender fruity tea. He let a soft grin cross his lips, pushing the invasive thoughts away while you were with him. “I told you it was an exquisite taste, you drink tea for a child.”
A bubbly laugh escaped you, making Simon freeze in pure awe. He’d never heard something so beautiful, a real authentic laugh. One that he caused.
“You should try it.” You eased, pushing your cup towards him with amusement. Simon’s eyes managed to squint in disgust, glancing down at the odd beverage.
His hand fit around the paper material, warmth meeting his fingers as he brought it carefully up to his scarred lips. The taste was sugary, but floral and rich at the same time. His tongue retreated away, and instantly he swallowed it like it was burning alcohol.
“I don’t like it.”
This tea perfectly matched your personality. Bubbly, overly sweet, and calming like the essence of lavender under his tongue. He’d rather have you than the tea.
“Well what do you like, oh mysterious neighbor?” You chuckled, taking back your tea with a happy grin. His dislike hadn’t irked you at all, instead you seemed more intrigued than before. As if he was enough to quirk your interest.
“Football.”
“Man United?”
He nodded.
“I’m a Liverpool fan.” You sighed, a guilty and mischievous grin passing over your lips.
“That’s more disgusting than that tea!” He growled out, a chuckle breaking through his chest at your lit up face.
“Yeah? What’s your favorite food or drink then? If you’re so quick to bash my tea!” You bickered back, happily noticing his shoulders relaxing and eyes softening.
“One of my Sergeants lives in Glasgow, he frequents at this pub with the best fry up you’d ever eat.”
“Breakfast in a pub?” You questioned, taking a sip of your tea again.
“Best hangover medicine.”
You’d scoffed, hiding your smile between your empty cup. Simon was surprised just how easy it was to talk to you. Here he was, just a man having a tea with a woman. Perhaps even a date? He didn’t have to worry about following orders or barking protocol to privates. Here he could be Simon, the man under the mask and war paint. It was… nice.
“So you’re in the military. That makes sense why I haven’t seen you over the last couple months.” You observed, but didn’t push. You were hanging the metaphorical bait, but he didn’t have to bite it if he didn’t want to.
He nodded, simple enough to confirm, but not enough to feel exposed.
“Well Simon, I have a train to catch. I’m going into Liverpool to see my Mum.” You explained, offering a polite smile.
“Sure.” He mumbled, watching you shuffle to leave the booth. “We should do this again sometime, it was nice to talk to someone besides my cat.” You urged, a laugh encasing your words.
His heart threatened to bounce out of his chest, but he pulled himself together with a subtle pinch to his thigh.
“Sounds nice.”
Dried blood coated his mask and stained his gloves to the point that he had to pull extremely hard to take them off. His shoulders slouched significantly and his eyes grew such large bags under them he could feel his skin sink into his skull. He was tired, exhausted, and needing a warm, long shower.
“Good te’ be back, yeah, L.t.?” Soap threw himself against a bench, groaning as he bent down to untie the laces of his boots. The Scot likely had the same idea as Simon, to shower all this blood off their bodies.
“Sure. Back to morning drills and bland Mess Hall food.” He added in monotone, eyes twinkling in amusement as Soap let out another dramatic groan.
“Oh don’t be like that.” He teased again, constantly pushing Simon out of his dramatic and lone atmosphere. It was nice in ways, how Soap managed to brighten up his day and keep him on his toes.
Speaking of toes, a frown worked its way onto his face as he caught the state of his freshly knitted socks. Dark mud and seeping blood rubbed uncomfortably against his toes, soaking the material of all its purity.
Soap followed his eye line, latching onto the pattern of white ghosts against black knitted material. A chortle escaped him, “Where the bloody hell did ye’ get those?”
“My Neighbor.” He answered shortly, taking note of the crimson color bleeding into the white ghosts.
“D’aw, little gran’ made ye’ some socks?” Soap teased, making the wrong assumption that you were some sweet elderly lady. Simon shook his head, peeling off the socks begrudgingly as he looked forward to his hot shower to warm his bones.
“She’s my age.”
His mind travelled to you. How you’d begged and begged for him to tell you his callsign, bringing up Top Gun of all things.
“Oh my gosh! You need to watch more movies. I can’t believe you don’t know who Tom Cruise is. Top Gun!” Your ecstatic voice carried as you sat in the now familiar booth the two of you shared.
It’s become a common occurrence for him to go out with you on Saturday mornings, sometimes you’d bring your laptop and study for an upcoming test in uni, other times you’d ask him any question under the sun, just to get to know him better. He was comforted by your mindless chatter, even more so when you’d avoid certain topics that made him uncomfortable.
You’d hardly pushed on his childhood or career, that was until you’d thought him traitorous that he’d never seen either of the Top Gun movies.
“Maverick and Goose? Never heard of them?”
“No.” Simon shrugged, sipping on his tea as your eyes sparkled again. “Do you have a callsign?”
His teeth grit at the question as his airway slightly closed. It was dangerous to identify himself off the clock, even more so in a public area. He studied your antsy form, noticing your hips hanging off the booth in curiosity, as well as the soft flesh of your lips pulled between your teeth. How could he ever say no to a creature so effortlessly beautiful?
“Ghost.”
A few days later, a knock on his door startled him from his routine of watching the local broadcasting. He’d approached the door, only to find a black pair of socks with little white ghosts knitted against the seams.
“Is she fit?” Soap found himself asking, a happy grin shining through. Simon was glad for his mask, for when he pictured your smooth skin, beautiful eyes, and stunning frame he could picture no flaws. Fit? That didn’t even begin to describe you.
“You have no idea, mate.”
He’d returned home Christmas Eve, tired and worn from all the flights and jet lagged beyond belief. His muscles were stiff and his heart was heavy. This was always his least favorite time of year.
Horror flashed before his very eyes, usually he’d get away with spending the holidays on base, catching up with his paperwork and training privates a little more to reduce his thoughts of his late family. Instead, Price all but forced him to go home, after a certain Scot let slip that his Lieutenant fancied his own neighbor.
He had nowhere to hide this time. He was home, and at the worst time of the year. Near instantly his nostrils filled with the smell of burnt Christmas ham, charred and ashes by the time he’d opened the front door. But that wasn’t the worst smell, not even close. Coppery tinges of blood clouded his nostrils as his eyes glazed over.
Hidden and reflected off the ornaments on the tree was his family. His poor sweet mother, who’d done so much and tried so hard to raise two boys with an abusive husband— she lay face first on the festive rugs. He’d rushed to her, only to nearly trip over his brother. Tommy’s hand was outstretched, blood trailing as he’d likely tried to crawl to his dead wife.
He couldn’t breathe, sheer panic and despair crawling on him like millions of slippery bugs. He’d vomited all the contents of his stomach as he caught the crib in the corner. Not his little nephew, not little Joseph.
Loud honking from below drew him out of his mind. He’d been standing idly in front of his door, duffel clutched so tightly in his hand he was sure he’d had punctured skin.
White snow, soft violin, warm coat.
Violin?
His feet had already carried him to your door, hand cautiously rapping against the thin wooden material. He knew it was late— hell, it was likely already midnight and Christmas Day. Yet he needed something, he needed to hear your voice and smell the lavender and floral ofyour perfume. He even wanted to see the orange fur of your pet tabby cat.
“Who is it?” Your soft voice carried through the door, successfully halting some of the tension in his shoulders.
“Simon.”
The door cracked open almost immediately, revealing you in red flannel pajamas and sleepy eyes. He’d never felt such a relief as he had just now. Seeing you, your warm smile peeking through all the tiredness.
“You just get back?” You asked, slippered feet already sliding to the kitchen to turn on the electric kettle.
“Yes.” He replied, bending low to pat the orange ball of fur dubbed Garfield. The cat mewed happily, even going as far as letting his belly be scratched. He’d missed your eyes curiously glancing at him from behind a cabinet, two mugs clinking as you pulled them out. He’d had the same cloudy eyes and sagged shoulders he always did when he was plagued by bad memories and PTSD.
“I was just about to put on a movie, if you want to sit on the sofa.” You’d suggested, seeping the leaves of his breakfast tea in a fluid motion. Your warm and inviting voice broke him away from thinking of his family, especially when the steaming scent of tea crept up his nose.
“What movie?”
“I was thinking Home Alone, or maybe even The Grinch. Tis’ the season and all that.” You bubbled, taking your own seat against him. He’d stiffened slightly at the mention of the holidays, but his thoughts quickly vanished at the subtle brush of warm skin against his side.
He wasn’t able to breathe properly as you laid your cheek upon his shoulder, right in the dip between his neck and clavicle. But no, it wasn’t the suffocating and violent loss of breath like before, when he thought of war and bloodshed. No, this was a dull ache of his heart, as if telling him that yes, this is where I want to be.
Red Flannel, shifting bodies, soft lips.
“How about we watch Top Gun?” He asked in a whisper, still feeling the absolute sweetness of your lips, the pleasure and love that was you.
You’d single-handedly dulled his pain, silenced the noise, and picked him up on the darkest of his days.
He loved you.
Tag list: @mykneeshurt

#simon ghost riley#cod#call of duty modern warfare#modern warfare#call of duty#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost x reader#simon riley x you
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Serving your master- Simon "Ghost" Riley NSFW
This is based on a request:
Ok but.. as I read the title to the latest fic “Starving” I thought it said “Serving.” Can you imagine? Poor little sub reader doing whatever our sweet Lieutenant wants. He wants to use your throat? Yes sir. He wants a nice home cooked meal? Yes sir. He wants to bend you over the table to go chasing after his own pleasure? Yes sir.
F!Reader, smut, 18+, MDNI, Sub!reader, Dom!Ghost, housewife!reader, manhandling, (all topics done/said are consensual), masochism,
A/N: voted to be posted first 2/3 votes...so here ya go
A while ago, Simon and you started this new and exciting part of your sexual life. You two started things slowly, first it was him commanding you to kiss him, then slowly undress, this all started off with simple requests. Your needs were no longer his priority...well at times they weren't. If you let another man think you were single, you'd have to get on your knees, ready for his mercy. He takes his wedding ring off and slaps you across the face, each time a little harder, his little toy has been letting other men see her? yeah, he will not have any of that.
It has been months since you two started this Sub and Dom relationship, you both enjoyed it, it was the time when you can have your wildest fantasies made, be treated poorly by him but still be loved. How you loved when he took control, never letting you think for yourself. And how he loved when he'd watch you cry from pain, begging to be hurt more and how easily he complied.
--
A collar on your neck, "Crawl to bed, like the good girl you are." his voice rough and low. You nod, skirt lifting up every now and then when you'd move, his hand prints from minutes ago on your bare ass. You were always at home, so he only allowed you to wear revealing clothes. If you cooked or cleaned, it'd be only when he told you to do so.
--
"Make me food, my little toy" his voice soft. He never knew you were into this, letting him be more than a Dom, over doing your role as his wife and his favourite little toy. You were in the kitchen, a somewhat tight skirt on you, hickeys on your legs as you made him lunch. He leaned against the wall, a smirk on him as he watched you make him lunch.
--
"Fuckin' listen to me," another slap to your face, "been such a naughty little thing," and another slap. You plead, begging to be touched, but all he does is tie you up whilst you cry. Legs shaking from the quickie you two had in the coffee shop. The car ride back home he made you give him head, thats the reason why your lipstick is smudged and why your mascara was proof enough you have to buy waterproof when with him.
--
"She'll have the pasta carbonara," he looked at the waiter and dismissed him. "I actually wanted the-" he gave you a stern look. "never think for yourself, I do that now." was a sentence he had mentioned when you two made the rules for this side of the marriage. He wasn't so controlling, only when he knew you'd be looking at him, pleading him to control you, happened every other day though.
--
One night, you had to use your safe word, he had been manhandling you. Tossing you on the bed, slapping and spitting on you. "Fuckin' tight." his hips slammed against your bare ass. The pain was always easy to take and so were his words. You both are masochists, always getting off on the pleasure the wax, life on your skin brought you both. How he would lick the small trails of blood that the knife would bring. But that night he pushed it too hard. He drags orgasms over and over, but you were too sensitive, feeling a little sick and his constant ass slaps weren't helping. "Starfish." you softly say as tears run down. He immediately pulls out, unties you and carries you upstairs and into bed. The entire time he kept apologising.
"I'm sorry, love." he cuddled to you, your back to him. He leaned over and wipes the tears off. "...it hurt a little more than the other times.."
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get carried away that much.."
--
Days when he came back after being gone for months and his missions wouldn't go right, he'd fuck his anger out on you. You'd go and pick him up, as always in your tight shirt and short skirt, he would get in the driver seat, you back to being his passenger princess. He would finger you, lick his fingers and park at some empty place. Take you to the backseat and start to undress you. You weren't aloud to speak, just watch as he undressed you. His fingers in you, his other free hand pressing your stomach, making you scream his name. Eyes shut as he kept finger fucking you. Your wet cunt leaking on his fingers, he would every now and then make you taste yourself. His spit on your thighs, your cheeks red from his slaps, your freshly changed nipple piercings digging a little into your skin, causing that masochist in you to be pleased. --
When you would ride it, he made sure to have your leash at his fist, just in case. Your hands on his neck, choking him lightly, dragging moans and various orgasms from him. He'd slap your face every now and then. He'd pull the leash when he'd tell you to behave, "shut it, I don't need your moans right now." But you didn't listen, you chased your own pleasure. He pulled more, choking you a little, turning you on even more. "I said shut it," a slap to your bare and sensitive tits. Cum leaking from the bouncing, he easily came four times.
--
A/N: Not much of a full story...but snippets of your life as his whore...I mean sub :) Better thank me for feeding you, ya nasty whores😝
#cod mw2#cod x reader#cod#ghost cod#mwii#cod smut#ghost hc#ghost fanfiction#ghost call of duty#ghost mw2#ghost x reader#ghost smut#ghost x you#ghost x oc#ghost x female reader#ghost x f!reader#ghost x female oc#simon riley imagine#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#simon riley smut#simon riley#simon riley x you#cod ghost#141#cod modern warfare#call of duty mw2#modern warfare 2#modern warfare#mw2
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Thinking of an modern! Eddie fic idea where the fruity for and the reader are all hanging out (doesn’t matter where) and the reader is flirting with a guy over text, she decides to go to the restroom and take some nudes but instead of sending them to the guy shes talking to she sends them to her best friend Eddie Munson who is sitting across from her. Eventual smut.
author's note: i took some liberties here and excluded the fruity four scenario, it just wouldn't fit the way this idea came to me so i hope you don't mind!
cw: 18+ (minors dni), modern!eddie, slightly inexperienced!eddie, confident!reader, established friendship, mentions of reader having lots of casual sex/partners, a little bit on pining/unrequited crushes, handjobs, if i missed anything lmk!
word count: 3.4k
You can’t help but feel a little regretful when your phone dings for the millionth time that night, screen light illuminating the darkness of the room, the only other light source being the television position in front of you both.
Eddie was, hands down, your closest friend. He was the person you came to for everything, even slow nights like this when you just wanted to be around each other. And it could, from an outside perspective, look too codependent. But, if either of you were ever feeling sad or upset you always seeked out the other without hesitation.
Eddie felt ridiculous, practically on his hands and knees after school in an effort to have you come over tonight—it’s mostly for show, hoping to make you laugh, but you can see how desperately he needed it.
Still, the notifications on your phone aren’t immune to Eddie’s senses, his eyes dragging toward the phone set atop the coffee table that his feet are resting on, a quick succession of messages in one go.
He clears his throat softly, angling himself away slightly as you reach for the phone, looking back at him apologetically.
You weren’t always this inconsiderate, but Eddie never seemed to mind, not initially anyways.
It was pointless too, some bland conversation with a boy who was much too desperate to get in your pants—but you couldn’t lie to yourself, you were being just as promiscuous as you wanted to be, so the flirting ensues.
It’s not bad either, but it starts to blend together, things you’ve seen time and time again. And Eddie looks like he’s on the brink of passing out, head slumped in his hand and his lip pouting out slightly.
“You don’t have to stay,” He says quietly, his free hand tucked under his shirt, pressing against the warmth of his skin, “I get it.”
Did he, though? Or was he just trying to be nice?
Either way, you couldn’t bring yourself to leave him high and dry on a night that he really needed you. And usually you both would be cuddled up against each other, but that wasn’t how tonight was going. You couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or exhausted, maybe a mix of both.
“I’m not leaving,” You respond, half offended that he would even suggest it, “I just—I’m gonna deal with this so they’ll stop bothering me.”
Whatever that would entail.
“Okay,” He relents, his voice soft, “I’ll pause it if you want.”
The movie, pausing the movie—you glance at the screen and back at Eddie, shaking your head.
“I’ll be quick.” You assure him before fleeing down the hall to the tiny bathroom, unlocking your phone.
And while you don’t necessarily condone sending nude photos of yourself to people you barely knew, you weren’t exactly a stickler for following the rules. Plus, you were good about keeping any identifying marks out of the pictures, namely your face.
You can hear Eddie move around in the other room, his walls dangerously thin. The old couch creaks as he moves and then the front door is squeaking open and slamming shut a few seconds later.
Smoke break.
Well, that or he was giving you some privacy.
You get a text from Eddie a moment later confirming your suspicions.
‘Out front for a smoke if you want to join.’
Followed by another.
‘When you’re done.’
You sigh heavily, switching over to your camera and dealing with the pressing task at hand, lifting your shirt up just above your breasts, a thin and see-through material that gave the subtlest view of your nipples, the curve of your breasts pushed together deliciously—you had to give yourself some credit, they were absolutely picture-worthy.
You snap the picture quickly, fleeting before you overthink it.
But, it doesn’t feel like enough.
You reach your hands around to cup your tits, pulling them out of the material with ease so they sit perfectly on your chest, still slightly supported by the fabric bunched up underneath them.
Was it deserved? Maybe not. But, you couldn’t be bothered to second guess yourself, snapping the second picture and readjusting your clothes, phone scattering into the bowl of the sink as you set it down.
You did want to join Eddie, so you sent the pictures without checking, not realizing how detrimental of a mistake you made. The phone is shoved into your back pocket and you meet Eddie outside a few moments later, his back turned toward you as he puffed on the cigarette, nearly down to a stub.
You reach around him effortlessly, plucking it from his fingers and pressing it to your own mouth.
“You could’ve asked for your own,” He laughs lowly, a deep chuckle that makes you feel warm all over, “I was trying to finish that.”
“Too late,” You smile, pressing the cigarette to your lips and puffing it dead, “I never finish mine and you know it.”
Eddie smiles knowingly, twisting you gently to urge you inside.
“Quick, before we freeze.” He tells you, opening the door to lead you back inside, the butt of the cigarette falling from your fingers as Eddie snuffs it out with his boot.
“I really am sorry,” You apologize timidly, “I know this is supposed to be our time and—“
“Hey, it’s fine,” Eddie shrugs, poking at the frown line in your cheek as you look over at him, “you’re here, at least.”
Eddie grabs a few snacks and drinks to finish out the movie, letting you settle into the space between his legs on the floor, pillow pressed against his lap for you to lean against. He’s playing with your hair absently, your eyes drawn to the screen as he checks his phone, the insistent buzzing of an unchecked notification driving him crazy.
He could only guess it was Dustin bugging him about something only he and Eddie would understand, but it’s not.
It’s not that at all.
It’s your contact name: two pictures attached.
Eddie’s fingers freeze against your hair, but it’s lost on you.
He’s not an idiot, he knows. God, he fucking knows.
And because he loves nothing more than to torture himself, he braves the fear that riddles his body and unlocks his phone, faced with the last thing he could ever expect.
“Oh fuck.” He says quietly, mostly to himself.
“Hmm?” You inquire, not bothering to look back at him.
Eddie stammers, phone almost slipping from his hand.
It’s not the first pair of tits he’s been blessed to see in his lifetime, but it’s not like he’s being bombarded with them on a regular basis. He’s had sex once, seen a girl naked once, in person, not counting the porn he watches on a regular basis—and he’s still new to all of this. But, this feels invasive.
Yet, he couldn’t pull his eyes away.
The silence is digging at you and you turn slowly, hand pressed like a fire-hot brand against his knee that makes him jump, his eyes pulling up toward you.
They’re wide—shocked, lost, and the words that he wants to say are dead on his tongue.
“Eddie, is everything okay?” You ask, concerning flooding you at his state of emotion, “Is it Wayne?”
He could keep it to himself, never tell a soul and live with the fact that he’s a total creep, bound to jerk off to the pictures of you at some point—he’s never outwardly admitted his attraction toward you, but he doesn’t hide it either.
Eddie hasn’t tried to ruin the one good thing he has going on in his life because his dick is telling him so, it’s the one thing he prides himself over.
But, that’s quickly flying out the window.
“Hello,” You call out again, “earth to Eddie? You’re starting to freak me out now.”
Eddie rubs at his brow in exhaustion, forehead creasing as he flips his phone around, “I uh, don’t think these were meant for me.”
You look at him, confused, tearing the phone from his hands and suddenly your mouth is falling open, not a word to be spoken.
“I mean, I’m flattered but—I think it’s safe to assume I wasn’t supposed to see those,” Eddie rambles, “not that like, I wouldn’t want to, but I figured it’s probably better to tell you rather than you finding out later and thinking that I didn’t tell you for some other reason, not that there is…a reason.”
You smile widely at his dramatic rambling. He only ever did it when he was nervous, which was inherently clear now.
This was going…great, clearly.
“That’s–” You laugh uncomfortably, softly, “I’m so sorry, Eddie.”
“No, no—don’t be,” Eddie interjects, “I’m not like I’m bothered or anything—“
“God, I’m so stupid,” You reprimand yourself, tossing the phone back into his lap, his hand tensed tightly into the fabric of the pillow when you move, a small thing you wouldn’t have noticed without the cause of current situation, but you ignore it for now, “you text me—and I didn’t even think to switch it back to the other conversation and I just sent it, like an idiot.”
“I’ll delete it,” Eddie says, reaching for the phone, “I’m going to delete it right now.”
“You already saw it, I don’t think it really matters.”
And it’s the first inkling Eddie gets that maybe you don’t mind—it was a genuine mistake, but you’re more panicking for the sake of Eddie, rather than yourself. Seeing your friend naked wasn’t exactly an ideal situation, but it wasn’t one Eddie had a problem with, not with him harboring such a deep crush on you.
“It feels wrong,” Eddie says, trying to laugh off how awkward things felt, “I mean, not that they’re bad photos—I think I should delete them.”
He shifts slightly, sitting up further as you turn to face him fully, knelt on the carpet at his feet—and that stupid, fucking pillow.
It’s covering the painful hard-on pressing against his jeans. Eddie hasn’t dealt with a situation like this since…well, ever.
Your eyes connect their briefly, the skin around his rings going white from his forcefully he’s gripping it, almost like he’s trying to rut into it secretly, relieving that silent ache.
“Should? Because you want to, right?” You check in with him, his fingers hovering over the delete button, staring intensely back at you.
“Yeah, of course.” He nods jerkily, “Friends don’t–don’t keep pictures like that, do they?”
He’s never been in such an unorthodox situation, learning the rules as he went. He never cuddled with friends or played with their hair, spent nights sleeping next to them in bed because the other was too tired to drive home–it’s a line you both have been walking on for a while, all that unspoken about tension collapsing in on itself.
“Only if they want to,” You tell, “You can–if you want to.”
“They weren’t meant for me.”
There’s a long beat of silence that has his heart racing in his chest, his face heating up.
“They can be.”
“But, what about–”
You shrug lightly, the light from the television shadowing around your face in a way that has Eddie mesmerized, caught up in the way you’re staring straight through him, your hand creeping toward his own, pulling gently at the fingers gripping the pillow.
“They were boring,” You tell him honestly, “and this is...a lot less.”
Eddie resists the pull for a moment, embarrassed by how easily he’s given himself over. It’s far from where he expected the night to go, and his internal monologue is screaming for him to say:
No. This won’t work. This can’t work.
“Eddie.” You say his name once, the tone in your voice telling him everything he needs to know.
Regardless of if this was a one time thing, you wanted it. And if all of this happened purely by chance, he’s thankful for the best goddamn divine intervention he’s ever experienced.
Eddie’s still speechless when you climb into his lap, thighs spread out over his own and his hands reaching around to squeeze at the wedge behind your knee, settling you more comfortably.
This was normal, no different than any other time that you’ve sat in his lap, but your hands are hovering, pillow tossed to the side. You can see how painfully hard his dick is from where it’s pressed up against the thick fabric of his jeans.
“I’m really trying not to make shit weird,” Eddie admits with a clipped laugh, “my body just kinda reacted.”
You shrug again, nonchalant. “I’ll take it as a compliment.”
Eddie glances down briefly, his hands rising up your thighs slightly, soft skin against rough denim. They squeeze at your hips, his gaze tilting back up toward you.
“What are we doing?”
It’s a question with a million and one answers, but you settle for something simple. Something Eddie can grasp and figure out himself.
“Whatever feels good,” You smile softly, pushing his long tresses behind his ears, the skin stained a deep red, “or we can go back to watching the movie and act like this didn’t happen.”
Eddie grips you a little tighter, like he might lose you.
“I can…help you out,” You suggest, glancing down with a mischievous grin, hands dragging toward the waistband of his jeans and tugging at the belt, “no stipulations or anything, unless you think it’ll go away on its own.”
“Probably–probably not.” Eddie admits. His morning wood wasn’t nearly as bad as this, but it always ended in him tensed up against the shower wall, fucking messily into the tight grip of his hand until he can finally find some relief.
You eye him wordlessly–he can see it in the way you light up.
A silent ‘Then?’ hanging between you both.
Eddie makes the first movie, surprisingly. His hands reach for his belt, unbuckling it with anxious fingers and sweaty hands, fumbling with the zipper until he can finally get it far enough down that he can wiggle his jeans down a bit. You lift yourself slightly to allow the action before settling back down, hands smoothed out over your own thighs. The aggressive tent in his boxers is lingering still–
“I’ve never done this before,” Eddie admits, “Like, without all the other stuff.”
And kissing didn’t feel right, too intimate for the situation despite how badly you wanted to touch him.
“You jerk off, right?” You ask, knowing the question is a little redundant. Of course he does.
He nods.
“So, I’ll just help,” You tell him, “or just watch, whatever you’re comfortable with.”
“Uh, no—I want,” Eddie nods slowly, looking up at you timidly, “I want you to help.”
There was no sense in him being shy, not with you. But, you get it—it’s uncharted territory, nothing either of you prepared for, but neither of you were turning down the opportunity. So, facing it head on seemed like the best.
“Okay,” You reply easily, dipping your hand between both of you to stretch under the material of his boxers, gripping him firmly. He’s hard, but everything about him is soft. You don’t dare a look, not yet, his eyes connecting with you briefly at the touch, his lips parting. It’s a soundless gasp, eyes pleasing silently, “is that fine?”
Eddie nods again, nose scrunching as you squeezed lightly, fingers rubbing over the fat head of his cock, the heaviness of him resting wonderfully in your hands.
“Might—might be easier if you take it out.” Eddie suggests, lifting his hips slightly to do just that, freeing himself to allow more room for you to move, bare skin pressed against denim.
You peek a glance down in the poorly lit room, flushed pink head disappearing under your grip as you fist him tightly, his hips rocking every now and then to meet your movements, his hands squeezing tighter and tighter against your hips, subconsciously rocking them in time with his. There’s no friction for you, but you don’t need it—this was about Eddie.
For now, at least.
“God, that’s so good,” He whines softly, head dipping back against the cushion as his eyes squeeze shut, “yeah—like that.”
Your bottom lip pulls between your teeth, rubbing testingly over the tip for a prolonged amount of time, precum drenching your hand until it’s sticky with slick, making a horrendously hot sound as your hand sinks down to the base and squeezes.
Eddie breathes uneven, a mix of a sigh and groan wrapped into one, voice cracking in the middle.
“Fuck, what are we doing?” He rambled, a sudden moment of revelation. “This is so—fuck—“
“Feels good?” You tease, “I’m having fun, Eddie—and I think it’s safe to say you are too.”
If the sounds he was making were any indication.
“You had other plans—didn’t you?” Eddie asks curiously, pausing in between words when things get too intense, his fingers digging into your back. It’s not painful, but you can definitely feel it.
“Maybe,” You shrug, “but you’re my best friend, Eddie—I’d do anything for you.”
“Yeah?” He asks, his voice sounding higher than usual.
“Mhm,” You nod, leaning over him slightly until your arm is pressed flush against both of your chests, the ridge of his cock rubbing against the front of your jeans at this angle—he’s so close to where he desperately craved to be, but still far enough away that it hurts. “Anything.”
“Fuck, I’m almost there.” He warns, feeling ashamed at how easy it was to work himself up. “Don’t wanna make a mess.”
You’re quick, using your free hand to lift your shirt over your head, hand leaving him for a brief second—he almost pouts, the feeling flagging slightly as his orgasm approached, but then he’s got your breasts in full view, pressed tightly against the intricate lace of your bra.
He really can’t take it, his hand cupping over your own as you return your grip around his cock, just as furious and tight as before, guiding you down as he likes, bringing himself closer and closer.
“Can’t believe you,” He says aloud, not for any reason in particular, “—doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”
You laugh softly, hand sifting into his long curls and gripping at the root gently, he moans softly, eyes boring into your own.
“Depends,” You start menacingly, “how much are you enjoying it?”
He snorts softly, “Too much.”
His eyes linger toward your breasts, follow the slow rise and fall of your chest, the thin gold chain that dips between your cleavage and holds a similar guitar pick to the one he wore, a gift for you after a year of friendship.
It wasn’t because he wanted to see you dawning a piece of himself, it wasn’t that at all. But, you wore it proudly.
You smirk knowingly, guiding him toward your chest encouragingly until his mouth latches into your skin, his hands sprawling out against your back.
It was the push he needed, confidence surging through him as he mouthed at the swell of your breasts, fingers dipping around the cups to stretch the material down, revealing the softened bud of your nipples as they harden in real time, the breeze hitting them immediately.
Eddie comes with his face buried against your chest, panting into your skin hotly as he stifles the lengthy groan that escapes him, rocking into your joined hands with the aftershocks as his come hits your stomach.
He lets out a weak noise, somewhere between surprise and disbelief, sprinkled with an astute feeling of real exhaustion.
“Fuck me,” He groans, reaching blindly for the shirt you hand him, wiping away the mess he’s made without question. He can only assume you don’t mind, given that you so freely handed it to him, “that was…intense.”
You chuckle, climbing off of his lap slowly, adjusting your breasts back into the confines of your bra.
“Still want to finish the movie?” You say jokingly, but he almost seemed pleased that you asked.
“If you don’t mind—“ Eddie laughs slightly, adjusting himself back into his pants, leaving his jeans undone, “I didn’t get on my hands and knees earlier for nothing, you know.”
“Fine, but—“ You point at his wrinkled shirt, yanking at the fabric gently, “I’m gonna need something to wear, since, well—“
“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie waves you off slightly, a grin splitting over his features, “or?”
It’s a challenge, a brave question to propose in a situation like this.
“I’m not sure you can handle me, Munson.”
“Try me.”
It’s no surprise, Eddie knows you better than anyone. If there was anyone to take you on, it was him.
Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡
#eddie munson#eddie munson smut#eddie munson blurb#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#joseph quinn x you#joseph quinn x reader#my writing
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Hi Mo! I hope you are doing well! I really love your writing and the way you capture the duality of Alfie's character. I saw that you were looking for ideas so I thought I'd send one in (please feel no obligation/pressure to write it, this is just spit balling). Maybe something with reader being protective over Alfie. Maybe they're unaware of the infamous title the Camden King holds or they are but they have an overwhelming sense to have to protect him when the two are placed into a dangerous situation. Thanks so much, and again no pressure to have to write this ♥️!
Hi my friend!! You are so sweet, I hope you’re doing well too!! Thank you so much for this prompt! I gotta be honest, for some reason I had a hard time trying to figure out how I wanted to write this! I hope you enjoy it though, and if it isn’t hitting the way you were hoping, message me and maybe we can come up with something together!! Sending my love!!! - Mo
Change of Plans
Alfie Solomons x Wife!Reader
Warnings: fighting, blood, stitches
This was NOT how the night was supposed to go.
Alfie was going to have a late night at the office, finishing up some business with the Shelby boys. Fine enough, you could make his home coming sweet. A fresh chocolate babka would be fresh out the oven, ready for him to cut into and devour. Candles would be lit all over the house, with curtains drawn in to protect from peering eyes and the creeping in cold. And you. You were dressed so pretty, just waiting for him. Hair loose and free, just how he loves it. You had put on that soft pink dressing gown he likes so much. The silk one with the delicate lace at the ends. You even put lavender oil on, extra, just to entice him.
It was SUPPOSED to be a nice surprise. It was SUPPOSED to be an evening where you spoiled him. It was SUPPOSED to be a romantic evening.
But no… here you are. Sitting next to Ollie in the car. Being driven across town to a bar. A bar, where your husband, along with the idiots Tommy, Arthur, and John Shelby, were fighting. Being that Ollie was concerned enough to grab you from home, you could only imagine how bloody it was.
Ollie looked over at you, eyeing the hem of your dressing gown, nervous as to how the pink fabric would be received, “Uhm.. Ma’am, I have a coat in the back… don’t you think maybe-“
“No Ollie I don’t think I want it. If Alfie wants to pull me out of my house this late at night, he can deal with the consequences.”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea-“
“Ollie you know I love you so very much but I will need you to not speak again until we get to the bar. Yes?”
Ollie nodded, but the stress never left his eyes. You know he meant well. He was only ever looking out for you and Alfie. He was very very sweet. But frankly, Alfie did not deserve to have Ollie looking out for him. He did not deserve common courtesy tonight.
You slam open the doors, and it was exactly as you assumed it was. Regular patrons of the bar were lined up at the edge of the walls, watching the gladiators in the center tear each other apart. There was blood all over the floor. Broken glasses and spilled liquor scattering the floor mixing with the red. Tables and chairs discarded and destroyed in the wake of the brawl. You assumed, that the fight started as Alfie against the brothers. But it looked from your stance now, that it was every man for himself. All four of the men were sporting black eyes, bruises and cuts all over their faces, necks, and hands. You heard Alfie’s laugh above the sounds, “C’mon now!!! You want some more?!”
He didn’t see you yet, but you could see him. He looked like absolute shit, and his mouth was bleeding despite the toothy grin he gave with every punch he gave and received. You rolled your eyes, and felt your rage rise. He was getting far too old for this shit, reveling in his strength and the destruction he could so easily cause. The honor he wanted to protect with the force of 50 men. In normal circumstances you find it honorable. Sometimes even charming. But the way it was going… someone was going to get killed. And if anyone was going to kill Alfie it was going to be you.
You motioned for Ollie to follow you, as you stomped over the bottles, blood, and water. The yells for more blood by the men at the edges slowly turned to whistles as they gave witness to your bare legs, the thin dressing gown, and your steaming rage barreling through. With strength mustered from God himself, you grabbed the collar of John and yanked him back quickly, tossing him onto his back, “What the! Oh, Mrs. Solomons…”
Ollie managed to rip Arthur off of Alfie’s back, and he too looked incredulous at your appearance at this disgusting scene. All that was left was Alfie and Tommy, still attempting to rip each others throat out, entirely oblivious to your presence.
“ENOUGH. STOP IT.”
You screamed, but to no avail. They were entirely focused on one another, on their mutual blood lust. Seeing no other option, you motioned for Ollie’s gun, snatching it from his hand, and shot three rounds into the ceiling.
They finally stopped, looking up to find you as the source of the noise. Where they initially looked like big men, they suddenly reminded you of naughty children.
“Alfred Solomons. Thomas Shelby. Just what in gods name do you think you’re doing.”
Silence. Utter silence. “WELL?! I’m waiting Mr. Solomons!”
Tommy tried to get up, but paused when you pointed the gun at him, “Do not make another move Mr. Shelby. Not only did you ruin a night with my husband, but you also nearly killed him. I have half a mind to shoot you dead right now.”
Not moving from your initial target, you address Alfie, “Have you finally found yourself speechless? Say something.”
With a swollen eye and bloody lip, he manages to smile sheepishly, “Just… just business love. Just… a bit of a quarrel darling nothing more… put the gun down my love, you look beautiful. A right vision darling. ”
“I will decide when I put the gun down Mr. Solomons.”
You begin pointing the gun at each of the four men, “I think we can all agree… that we are ALL a little too old to behaving this way yes?”
Tommy was watching you intently, as was Alfie. John and Arthur hung their heads. Embarrassed for both their behavior and their deep seeded fear of you. You motioned for Alfie to get up, “My husband and I are going to leave now. Mr. Shelby, I expect a handwritten note apologizing for ruining my evening. And Monday you all will convene together, to discuss the issue like fucking adults!”
Alfie winced as he got up, cane nowhere to be found. You walked back out into the cold, with Alfie close to your heels. You push him into the car before you, and slam the door shut, telling Ollie to take you home.
You can’t even look at Alfie. So overcome with irritation and worry. Irritated that he acted so recklessly, and worried about his injuries. As you always are. Alfie fiddled with the coat on the seat, “Coat is back here and you still decided to come out in your dressing gown eh?”
“Be quiet I do not want to hear you.”
“Oh you will hear me though won’t you yeah? You will hear me, because now, all of fucking London saw my wife’s bare legs! I mean what the fuck is wrong with you.”
“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with me?! You want to know what’s wrong with me Alfie Solomons? I wait all day for my husband to come home. No no not just wait. I SLAVE around the house all day, make myself look nice, hoping HOPING that my husband makes it home! I worry sick ALL DAY that maybe this will be the day my husband doesn’t come home. And instead of coming home, he goes and acts like a COMPLETE FUCKING MORON and starts a fist fight with the Shelby boys!! You are getting too old for this kind of reckless behavior Alfie! And I cannot let you keep destroying your body like this!”
You begin to feel the hot tears fall down your cheeks, and Alfie’s heart starts to crack, “Aw.. darling I- treacle don’t go worrying about old Alfie now. Your husband is like an ox yeah?”
Your tears keep flowing, harder now, “No Alfie! No i do worry! It’s not about you being strong!! It’s about you being healthy! About you being safe! I’ve never told you to stop the business! I’ve never asked you to leave it! All I’ve ever asked is that you show wisdom! Not to go around picking fights! I can’t see you like this Alfie! You don’t deserve to get cut up and beaten for nothing! For a pissing contest! I shouldn’t have to see my husband like this just because of some… some pride!”
Alfie just placed his bloodied hand on your knee, patting and stroking your thigh trying to comfort you. Once Ollie got you and Alfie home, you silently walked up, freezing and covered in the smell of booze and violence. “Get to the bathroom Alfie. I’ll be there in a minute to clean you up.”
You changed out of your soft pink nightie, and slipped on of Alfie’s night shirts over your body, breathing in the smell of his left over cologne. With a sigh you lugged the medicine kit into the bathroom, where Alfie sat at the edge of the tub, shirt off, hot water running and steaming the room. Silently, you began cleaning the wounds on his hands and chest. Once the tub was sufficiently filled, you nodded for him to get in.
With a grunt he lowers himself in. It was getting harder to get into the tub. His muscles tighter than they used to be. You begin your work, stitching up the deeper cuts on his chest and face. It was like nothing to you now.
The first time you stitched him up, he had to talk you through it, giving you more comfort than you could him. It was a rough first try, the scar is still pure white between his shoulder blades, and you can feel it under your fingers at night. But now, you know your way around the needle and his skin, it’s a familiar ritual to you now, though you wish it wasn’t.
“You look as beautiful as you did on our wedding day.” Alfie says suddenly, eyes glossy, and forehead sweaty.
You shake your head at him. Of course he’s trying to flirt with you while you’re stitching him up, “You’ve lost a lot of blood. You’re delirious.”
“Nah. I married an angel darling. You make those shirts look like them French magazines.”
You couldn’t help but smile. Damn him, he knows how to sweeten you up. You finally finish up the stitches, 10 different gashes in total, and you begin putting on the salve and bandages when he finally speaks again, “My sweet heart, you should not have gone down there. It would’ve been ok. You don’t need to be involved in all that.”
God he’s irritating. Throwing your hands in your lap you bite back, “Alfie don’t give me that. One of us has to have some sense! One of us has to care about you.”
“You are making a bigger deal out of this than it is. Or are you forgetting what it is that I do! I ain’t a soft man treacle.”
“Do not even try to spin it Alfred Solomons. I will not be made to be looked at like a hysterical and stupid house wife. You will not make me feel crazy Alfred Solomons. I am your wife and you will listen to me.”
A beat of silence. And two blinks from Alfie are your queue to keep speaking, “Never. Never have I ever told you to stop. I told you that I would always support you. That your people are my people. You want to continue the business. Absolutely. You want to drop it all and go to Margate. Beautiful. I will always be here for the aftermath. I will always be there to discuss. I will always be there to stitch you up. But this Alfie… this type of… reckless nonsense… you got slashed in the chest Alfie! I will not be made a widow Alfred Solomons. Especially in the wake of something which was preventable. I refuse to watch my husband kill himself for a fucking pissing contest.”
He stared at the water in the tub, losing its steam and washing away the grime from his day. In this moment he wasn’t the King of Camden. That mask left the moment he walked through the threshold. Right now he was Alfie Solomons. Your husband. The man who was to love and protect you.
“Alfie… don’t you see how much I love you? How much I want you to be safe? I hate seeing you in pain, it makes me sick. I don’t know what I would do if you were suddenly not here. I think… the sky would turn black. I would not be able to breathe.”
Alfie hummed, and began to rise out of the tub, “C’mon… let’s get to bed yeah?”
With a sigh you nodded, helping him out, and cleaning up your tools before leaving him to dress for bed. Already bundled in between the soft white sheets, you look above your book to watch him limp into bed, and your heart breaks. He grunts as he gets in, but then pulls at your shirt to bring you closer, “C’mere darling. Need you.”
You toss your book to the floor, huddling closer, letting him guide your head to his bare chest. He hums put a tune from his childhood, stroking your hair as he thinks. After a bit he whispers, “Do you know what would happen if you weren’t next to me anymore?”
“Hmm?”
“The world would stop spinning. Lose all its color. Food ‘d lose its taste. Music would be horrible. I’d stop breathing. There’d be no reason to breathe. No reason at all.”
You begin to feel tears fall again, but he kept continuing, “I love you my darling. You add meaning to all this… I’m sorry I made you feel… as if you didn’t matter. As if your feelings didn’t matter. They do treacle. Your husband is stubborn, and it ain’t right. Ain’t right to make my wife cry and worry. You’re the best a man like me could ever ask for. You put up with so much… I promise not to be such an ass yeah? Start using my head before I start up some nonsense. Deal?”
You nod, clutching his chest, kissing him wherever you could reach, as Alfie hums again, kissing the top of your head. “Now Treacle. Tell me all about these plans you had for tonight.”
#alfie solomons#alfie solomons x reader#alfie solomons x you#alfie solomons fanfic#alfie solomons x y/n#peaky blinder fanfic
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Striker x Ftm (succubus) reader
Warnings: (SMUT, degrading, Accidental creampie, mentions of female aligned body parts, reader has top surgery but no bottom, js kinky shit to be honest.)
Reader works as a bounty hunter as a side job for quick cash grabs, He didn't realise how hard this new bounty was going to be.
You got out of your run-down car, and the thing was beat to a pump, with all the fighting and bullet holes you were surprised it was still running. You took the photo of your bounty out of your pocket, he was handsome, of course, but you weren't exactly bothered, you had a job to do, and you were going to get it done as quickly as possible. You looked ahead at the run-down bar, the big neon sign hung high, some letters flashing, the red light hanging by a wire. ‘What a dump’ you thought to yourself as you strolled inside.
You see your target at the bar sipping a whiskey by himself at the bar, the stool he was sat on was red velvet and torn. Discretely, you walk over and order a small shot before walking to a table and keeping eyes on your target as you sit down alone. He stays there for a good half an hour before finally paying his tab and leaving, as he pushes through the saloon doors you swiftly follow. He goes… behind? The bar? Unusual but you don't know what he's up to so you aimlessly follow him.
As you turn the corner an arm slams you to the wall. Fuck. You were caught.
“You think I wouldn't notice your eyes on me darlin’?” a low southern accent spoke out.
“If I did I would have been more careful” you chirp back just to hear a condescending dark chuckle come from his throat.
“Oh you're a mouthy one aren't you cutie?”
Cutie? You might be able to catch him after all. “Yeah… and?”
“I don't like the mouthy ones.” you feel a sharp blade come near your stomach. “Always the most fucking annoying to kill.”
“Who said you were killing me?”
Another chuckle pursued.
“You're in no position to be making decisions honey.” the knife grazes your abdomen and some blood is drawn in the procedure. As he drags the knife up your stomach a mark on your lower stomach is revealed and striker looks at it in curiosity before giving a smirk.
“What's this for eh?”
You didn't say a word back, he knew what it was, and you weren't going to be his little bitch to explain it to him.
“A succubus? Well, aren't you a rare one?” he grinned, his gold tooth showing
“What's it to you? Asshole” he chuckled again.
“I've never been with a succubus before, I imagine the experience is quite extraordinary.”
“I'm not an experiment.” you scowl back at him
“I mean succubus or not darling, I'd still ravage you~. How about I make you a deal?” he smirks
“What deal?”
“You spend a night with me and I won't spill yer guts for attempting to kill me.” He raised an eyebrow as his grip loosened on you.
‘What an ass’ you thought to yourself. You knew he wouldn't be able to kill you and you were pretty sure he knew it too, but hey, what's a bit of harmless fun? “Oh please big scary cowboy I'll do anything! Just don't hurt me!” you say sarcastically, gaining another deep chuckle.
“You got jokes too huh?” Striker released his grip and held out his hand for you to take, you took it and he led you to his horse lifting you onto the back of it “I'll take you someplace real nice darlin’ don't you worry!” he snapped the bridles and the horse set off.
Now you end up in a hotel room having Striker push you against the door as his long tail wraps around your thigh using his spare hand to lock the door, the other to take off your clothes. As he takes off your shirt he looks at your chest admiring your physique “damn.” he smiled.
“Like what you see?” you pant between the kisses. Striker didn't say anything and kissed you more passionately than you expected but you reciprocated it nonetheless. He ran his hands up your figure gripping your hips slightly as you pulled off his shirt. He was toned, very toned, not that you were complaining at all.
Striker runs his hand along your ass as he picks you up and takes you to the bed throwing you down and holding your wrists together. He peppers kisses down your body sucking on your nipple slightly before going down to your pants. His tail rattled excitedly “Your tail rattled? That's cute.” you giggle, striker frowned “I'm not gonna be the cute one in this situation when you're underneath me.” he chuckled as he unbuckled your pants and pulled them down. You carried on talking “Oh sure you cocky bas- FUCK!” you gripped the sheets to look down and see a cream cowboy hat, although you couldn't see what he was doing, you felt it. You could feel his tongue circle around your clit and he sucked it like his last meal making you whimper “M-move the hat…” you say shakily.
Striker stops, making you whine before taking his hat off and placing it on top of you're head “fuckin cute” he snickered and before you could say a word he went back down on you more aggressively as he gripped your thighs his claws sinking into them to hold them to place “god your pussys fucking perfect…” he mumbled making your cheeks heat up. Striker was eager to make you cum as he dipped a finger in your hole curling it slightly and then adjusting your hole by pushing a second one in making you whine as you gripped his hair the cowboy hat falling over your face making striker hiss. He wanted to see your cute little face while he was ruining you. He pushed the cowboy hat out your face and pushed his finger in deeper hitting just the right spot as his digits curled into your fleshy walls. “God if you're this tight around two fingers how are you going to take my cock?” he chuckles as he carried on getting you closer and closer to the edge.
“Striker I'm gonna-”
Then he stops.
“What the fuck I was nearly there!” you say frustrated
“I want you to beg for it.” he smiled sadistically
“Fuck yo- shit!” you winced as he rubbed your clit painfully slow smirking at you.
“What was that sugar?” he chuckled before his face went deadpanned, “Beg, bitch.”
You couldn't take it… you had to… “please let me cum, please please, please, please I'm so close, make me cum sir…”
Striker immediately picked up the pace and curled his fingers fast inside you making you tighten around his fingers sending you over the edge as you let out moan, your pussy creaming all over his fingers “Good boy… that's more like it…” he smiled as he licked up your juices off his hand.
You catch your breath as he kisses you gently moving you up the bed before unbuckling his pants. He lined himself up and looked at you smiling before roughly shoving himself in making you scream in pain and pleasure, meanwhile strikers tail rattles again as he mumbles under his breath “fuck…” he puts his arms on either side of you “god you’re tight…”
He regains himself and instantly starts going at a brutal pace pulling you into his chest against the headboard his tail rattling from time to time as he moves relentlessly “Fuck! Shit shit!” you whine as you try to come down from your last time cumming but you managed to bear it.
Striker chuckled and breathlessly spoke “You'll take down satan himself with that language” he chucked as he carried on pushing in and out of you leaving hickeys on your neck.
You didn't respond and just wrapped your arms around his neck panting into him, helplessly. Striker continued to thrust into you before slightly pulling you into him and lifting you up, allowing him more leverage to fuck you.
God damn could you feel it. As soon as he took his first thrust you felt his tip press against your G-spot, making you moan into his neck “Striker- I can't hold it honestly!” striker chuckled as he picked up the pace and circled you clit at just the right pace snarling at how tight you were getting around him “fuckin keep this up then I'll be cumming soon…” he gnawed into your neck and sucked a hickey into it as he pushed you to the limit. Finally, you feel the knot in your stomach undo as you whine and wrap your legs around him. Your pussy pulsing around Striker’s cock.
“Shit- wait darling!” striker gripped your hips tightly as he tried to push himself away from you, in means of not to cum in you but as you came your legs accidentally held him in place and he couldn't get out of it. “Fuck! sugar fuckin mo- fuckkk!” he groaned as he felt your walls wrap perfectly around his cock while he twitched inside you releasing all his warm sperm inside your pussy.
You both were panting and could barely catch a breath through the small kisses you gave each other, “might have marked you more than I want” he chuckled as he pulled out of you and looked to see his cum leaving your pussy “That's fucking hot.” he smirks as he looks up at you.
You on the other hand were a little panicked as no one had ever raw cummed in you “Yeah until I'm 5 months pregnant!” I scowl, just leaving striker there laughing “Well I couldn't exactly pull out when your legs were around me, besides, don't succubus want cum?”
You never before but by god you did now “I suppose so…”
“Then you'll be fine, I'll grab you the pill in the morning.” he said as he pulled you into him
“You better,” you remark and you lay on his chest.
(I do take requests so if you feel like making one have a look at my pinned blog and leave them under there!)
#striker x reader#striker x ftm reader#x ftm reader#striker x male reader#striker x trans reader#x trans reader#helluva boss
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stupefy ‧₊˚ ⚡︎𓈒 p.js
for the anon who requested ravenclaw reader getting locked in a closer w slytherin jay, hope u find this :c
SUMMARY ! playing spin the bottle with your brother and his troublemaking companions results in you getting locked in a closet with his best friend, who seems to have noticed your staring throughout the night.
PAIRING ! slytherin!jay x ravenclaw!f!reader
WC ! 1.4K
GENRE ! sprinkle of fluff (?), slight suggestive, implied sexual themes from hee’s friends
WARNINGS ! making out, jay pulls your tie (so rude smh), he’s only cocky for a bit then he’s a blushy loser, mc is teased for being ravenclaw, hees being a terrible brother + his friends are just as bad
a/n: WHY DO I ALWAYS DELETE ASKS I FEEL SO BAD :c take this tiny jay fic cuz of anon’s indulging in my slytherin jay antics grhrgehbrgh
“YOUR TURN, Y/N!”
instead of being asleep like the rest of your nerdy house was, you were down in the potions room playing spin the bottle with the slytherins — or more specifically, your older brother heeseung and his annoyingly loud friends.
you've come to know a few of them quite well, especially one named park jay. it was as if the boy was sculpted by a greek god; perfect pointy nose and jawline sharper than a snake’s fang, cat-like eyes always seemingly harsh enough to pierce right into your very soul.
you were almost in a trance side-eyeing him half the night, but the sound of your name makes your head snap up, nervously adjusting your glasses, "h-huh?
“aw, look at the lil' raven," a girl named karina hisses in amusement, "it's your turn, cutie. don't be shy." you'd think heeseung, being your older brother and all, would stand up for you by now and tell his friends to play nice. but the slytherin male only smirked just as evilly as the rest of his housemates, staring down at you through his wavy black bangs without a hint of empathy. it really was a wonder how the two of you were even related.
as you gulp and move to grab the bottle, you feel jay's gaze sharpen on you even further.
please, please, anybody but him. you doubt you'd survive being in the supply closet with jay for more than a minute, any more than that and you'd probably faint on the spot.
with a last shaky breath you release the bottle, everyone turning silent as the glass quietly spins and spins. before you know it, the bottle begins slowing down. it goes past everyone at the table: first sunghoon.. karina…. heeseung.. yeonjun..
you freeze.
the bottle stops, and in utter horror, you look up to see the face of park jay smirking down at you, mischief evident in his shimmering pupils. of course your luck had to fall down the drain at the worst times, it was all too predictable. karina cackles, “yah, isn’t this too mean? jay, go easy on her!”
you desperately look at your big brother, who you always looked up to for help, but the emotionless boy is already pushing you towards the supply closet with a sinful grin, sunghoon doing the same to jay next to you. “w— hold on, hee i don’t want—“
“have fun!” slam.
you continue staring at the locked door, dumbstruck as the voices of the other slytherin’s slowly fade away. in one hopeless attempt of desperation, you reach up to test the handle a few times. the last source of light illuminating the room full of strange ingredients and liquids was a single hanging lantern, only increasing the dreadful mood.
“sunghoon has the key,” a raspy voice provides. you turn, eyes finally locking with jay’s as he perchs up against the wall, arms crossed calmly. you weren’t sure what it is you were expecting from this unlucky scenario, but it definitely wasn’t the usually wreckless slytherin maintaining a respectful distance from you.
though you notice that unlike your brother, his gaze reflected genuine emotion; a hint of pity showing through his pupils as you glue yourself to the ground anxiously. he looks even more perfect up close despite his untucked shirt and loose green tie, black cloak almost falling off on one side.
it’s tranquil for another moment before jay speaks up again, running ring-attired fingers through his raven bangs. “why were you staring at me?”
your mind blanks, unprepared for such a sudden call out. “i.. i wasn’t.. i didn’t stare at you,” you mumble pathetically.
the slytherin looks at you again with a knowing simper. you swear he whispered ‘cute’ under his breath, but you didn’t have time to dwell on it before he replied, “during spin the bottle,” jay refers. “don’t think i didn’t notice. your little glasses don’t hide anything.” with no response, you tilt your head down in shame and embarrassment.
suddenly, the boy pushes off the wall, stalking towards you ever so slowly. when you try to step back in response, a shelf full of potions nearly tips over as your back stabs into it.
you gasp at the contact, facing forward again to see jay right up in your space, hands pinning your sides in with a brow raised. “do you have a crush on me or something?”
you choke in horror, “what!? no!” he brings his face even closer to yours, watching for a reaction. when you don’t bother making an effort to escape or even turn your head away, he chuckles, small fangs poking through his pink lips as he realises you want this just as much as him.
before you can process it, the boy has taken your perfectly done blue tie through his fingers, rubbing down the material leisurely. “tsk tsk tsk.. little ravenclaws like you shouldn’t lie, could get you in trouble.” he suddenly yanks your tie harshly, grasping the material as you’re tugged towards him with a yelp, lips centimetres from his plump ones. “i can feel your heart racing,” he snickers.
you aren’t sure how you haven’t passed out yet; he was undeniably stunning up close, black bangs covering bits of his eyes, tongue poking out to moisten his chapped lips as he holds you against the shelf.
with a breathy exhale, you slowly reach a hand up to place against his own defined torso, grinning at the feeling of his own heart beating rapidly out of his chest. ”i can feel yours too,” you fire back teasingly.
at that, his smug expression staggers for a moment, processing your boldness in surprise. then, he smiles, reaching up to push a loose hair strand behind your ear. “caught me there.”
your smile grows a fraction. “jay,” you mutter, glancing at the locked door. the slytherin hums in acknowledgment, the sharp tip of his nose poking your own. “can you..”
he waits, “can i what, princess?”
you swallow, fingers wrapping all the way around the large wrist that’s calmly raking through your hair. “kiss me?”
jay’s cocky smirk returns, tilting his head evilly, “what’s the magic word? c’mon, ravenclaw’s should know all their manners,” he taunts.
your jaw ticks in irritation. instead of doing as the taller boy asks, you don’t think twice before switching your positions, pressing him into the shelf while kissing him just as you please.
jay groans in alarm at the feeling of your soft lips moving against his, visibly having an inner debate on teaching you a lesson or letting you have your fun. it seems he chooses the second option, allowing your hands to roam into his jet black roots while gently cupping your cheek as if you were a vase; broken into pieces if he touched you any rougher.
after a couple minutes more, you separate for air, staring at each other with glazed out irises. it was clear who had more experience; jay breathing half steadily while you nearly pant your lungs out, lifting a hand to wipe your steamed up glasses.
“do you think your brother’s gonna beat me up?” he suddenly asks, though not looking scared in the slightest.
you scoff in amusement, “no, he doesn’t care about me. he’s the one who pushed me in here, remember?” feeling irritated by the mere thought of heeseung, you step closer again to kiss him and distract the both of you, right when a lock clicking reaches your ears.
the closet is aggressively jerked open, a flood of light shining into the storage room. “time’s up, jay! get off the poor thing—“
everyone peeping into the closet pauses in confusion, taking in the sight of you caging a boy much bigger than you against a shelf, lips swollen and hair a mess as jay blushes in humiliation, pushing you off of him.
first sunghoon giggles, then heeseung begins to cackle, before they’re all laughing, grabbing jay’s shoulders and pushing him around, pinching his red cheeks and ruffling his hair even further. “getting pushed around by hee’s little sister? a ravenclaw, really bro?” yeonjun snickers playfully.
with that, the group of slytherin’s begin to walk off without sparing you another glance, much too preoccupied teasing the black haired boy. you begin to chuckle for a moment, feeling proud of yourself until through the midst of the chaos, jay meets your eyes furiously.
he rudely points at you, then raises it to his neck, making a cut throat motion.
you had a terrible feeling this wouldn’t be your last encounter with your brother’s best friend.
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Gin, Tonic, and Tequila Shots ~ Jack Hughes
Summary: You really didn’t think you could expect much from a relationship that started with nothing more than hooking up. But as the occurrences become more and more frequent your feelings become more and more involved in something that you were sure could only end in heartbreak.
Word Count: ~5,500
Warnings: Drinking, smut, jealousy, language, brief toxic male behaviour.
A/N: I didn’t edit this super well because, honestly, I don’t love it enough to read through it many times. But I really hope it’s better than I think it is for everyone’s sake.
It was just supposed to be fun. And if you were being honest, it had been incredibly fun. The two of you ran in the same circles, in a way. At the very least you were both at the same house party one time and it seemed that as time went by those occurrences only became more and more frequent. You had talked, casually and in passing, before you truly got to know each other. In fact, for awhile you didn’t even really know each other’s names.
But one thing you could remember was the night things truly ramped up, like someone had engraved it into your brain, still there even though it had been almost a year since that night.
10 Months Ago
You pull him over to the table from where he had been leaning against the wall, pretending not to be watching you play beer pong throughout the last game. “You’re going to be my partner now,” you tell him with the confidence that only shots of vodka could truly give you.
“Am I?” he chuckles, a beer in one hand as you set the ping pong ball into his other.
“Yeah,” you smirk, stepping back and glancing at the other side of the table. “Your turn,” you tell him, nodding towards the table.
Jack shakes his head, giving you an equally enticing smirk as he turns to the table to take his first shot. You watch the ball he had thrown land perfectly in one of your opponent’s cups. “Not bad,” you comment, with the full knowledge that it was much more impressive than just not bad. “I’m Y/N,” you tell him before taking your shot, your own ping pong ball landing in a cup on the other side of the table.
“Nice shot, Y/N.” He brings his beer to his lips, taking a large gulp, like he was hoping it would give him the power to sustain whatever he had just walked into. “I’m Jack.”
The rest of the game proceeds in the same manner, little jabs and flirtatious comments directed at each other throughout it.
It took only the length of one game till the two of you had locked yourselves in the bathroom of the house you were at. You didn’t even know whose house it was but you were very grateful for the sufficient counter space that you were perched on, Jack between your legs making you moan loudly.
“You need to be quiet,” Jack mutters, after pulling back to look at you, his hands firmly grasping your thighs.
You’re breathless but you mange to breathe out an okay and paired with the nod you give him it seems to be enough to give him the reassurance to get back to it. You’re ecstatic that he does as you’re rocked through an orgasm that makes you clutch the edge of the counter so hard your knuckles turn white.
“Fuck,” is all you manage to say as Jack wipes his lips with the back of his hand before bringing his lips back to yours in a passionate and heated kiss. You’re a fluster of movements and adjusting and grappling before you’re pressed over the bathroom counter. He has his hand in your hair, pulling your head back to look at him in the mirror while he slams into you. He was right that you needed to be quiet, but he was making it incredibly hard as he hit parts of you very few people had before.
You’re barely able to pull yourself to standing after he’s done with you, your body feeling like jello as you lean into the counter. “Holy shit,” you whisper. But your heart sinks a little when you see that he was already on his phone just minutes after pulling himself out of you. Biting the inside of your lip you scramble to begin pulling your clothes on.
“So, do you want to stay at my place tonight? Or do you want to go to your place? Or…”
Your eyebrows furrow as you stare at him, your shirt still in your hands. “What?”
Jack turns his phone around, showing you that he was trying to get an Uber. “I mean, I don’t know, if you want to stay here that’s cool but that kinda took it outta me,” Jack chuckles as he turns his phone back around to look at it. “Up to you, whatever you want to do.”
You’re staring at him, mind racing to figure out what to say. “I’m going to stay,” you finally blurt out. You didn’t want to. You really didn’t want to. But you also didn’t want to seem like you were too invested in something with the guy who just fucked you in the bathroom at a house party.
Jack is silent for longer than you had expected before shrugging. “Okay, whatever.”
When he left that bathroom you hadn’t expected to feel quite as deflated as you did. At least you knew each other’s names now. But there was a part of you that wished you didn’t, it was less disheartening that way.
That was until a couple days later when you got a text from an unknown number.
‘Hey, it’s Jack. Got your number from a friend. We’re going out for drinks, wanna come?’
It was a Friday and after you got home from work that evening you had immediately slipped into pyjamas, slathered on your skincare and called it a night. But that text changed everything as you hurried about your apartment trying to put yourself back together without looking too put together. ‘Yeah, sure. Where?’
You had gotten the name of the bar a few minutes later and met him and his group of friends that only seemed vaguely familiar there later that night. The end of that night went much like the first, though you had at the very least ended up back at his apartment and in a bed this time. But again you weren’t sure how to handle the situation. You didn’t want to seem clingy or pushy so you pulled your clothes on as soon as it was over, heading out the second you managed to get an Uber.
It wasn’t until he ended up at your apartment that things changed. He didn’t leave immediately. He fell asleep beside you in your bed, both of you waking up the next morning beside each other. And something about that seemed to change the situation. Something about waking up next to each other, seeing each other with sober eyes.
Suddenly you weren’t just using drinking or partying as an excuse to see each other. Of course that didn’t stop. You were still going to the same parties and running into each other on nights out. But beyond that he was calling you after hard practices or late at night when he had just gotten back from one city or another. And you were calling him over when you were in your apartment alone and all you wanted was for someone to run their hands over your body and touch you in a way that Jack seemed to do so well.
Current Day
It had been ten months. They were ten great months, but it was a long time to be hooking up with someone for nothing to come from it. Not that you didn’t want anything to come from it. Hell, somewhere in the back of your mind you knew you would without a doubt say yes to being his girlfriend. But you shovelled that back into the depths of your brain, because if you knew you really had feelings for him you needed to address it with him or you would inevitably end up heart broken.
But you didn’t. You refused to say anything, to bring anything up to him.
“So you’re just going to let yourself get hurt?” Taylor asks one Saturday afternoon as the two of you were getting ready to go to Jack’s hockey game that he had invited you to. He had also invited you to go out to a bar with him and some friends after so you didn’t read too much into the game invite if it was just a step in the direction of getting you into bed later that night.
“I’m not going to get hurt,” you tell her, a blatant lie. But at least if you said it out loud you could maybe pretend that it didn’t hurt so bad when it did happen. You just didn’t want to admit that you had given him the power to hurt you. “He’s just good in bed.”
“Shut up,” Taylor laughs, laying across your bed giving you advice about what to wear that night. “You like him, stop lying to me.”
For a moment you consider lying to her, continuing with your little charade of only liking him because he made you finish, which was more than you could say about most guys. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t because he also made you laugh and he made you happy and he made you feel safe. “I just don’t think he wants anything more.”
“Has he told you that?” Taylor inquires. “But if that’s true I really think you need to end this thing you’re doing with him.”
Rolling your eyes you turn back to your closet, knowing she was right but also knowing you were annoyed by it. “He hasn’t told me that but if he wanted something he would have said something about it by now.”
“You haven’t,” Taylor points out.
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” you snap, picking out a shirt and turning back to look at her. “Sorry, I just, I don’t know,” you mutter.
“It’s fine, I just don’t want you to get hurt but I also don’t want to push you to do anything you don’t want to do,” Taylor assures you, eyes switching from looking at you to the shirt you were holding. “I like that one.”
It’s a few hours later and you’re sitting in the arena watching the game, your eyes barely leaving Jack when he was on the ice and still seeming to get drawn to him when he wasn’t. You’re not sure how three hours could fly by so quickly but as soon the game comes to an end with the Devils winning 3-2 you couldn’t wait to get out of there and get to the bar to meet up with Jack.
You knew waiting for him and going over to the bar with him was an option, but you figured it would just be easier to just meet there. You hadn’t anticipated how long you and Taylor would be waiting, and you definitely didn’t anticipate ending up at a table with a few guys who had approached the two of you and offered to buy you both a drink.
“You want to do a shot?” The man sitting beside you asks. He had told you his name was Owen, he was an investment banker and most definitely a little too old for you. But you didn’t mind, it wasn’t like you had any intention of doing anything with him, the attention and free drinks just felt nice.
You pretend to think it over, already knowing the answer. “Only if it’s tequila.”
“Deal,” he chuckles, standing up and taking your hand, leading you away from the table to an empty spot at the bar. You watch him rest his forearms on it, your eyes drawn to the obnoxiously large watch on his wrist. “Two shots of Don Julio 1942,” Owen says as the bartender approaches.
You have to physically stop yourself from rolling your eyes as he orders it, watching him fork over nearly fifty dollars for the two shots. He was obviously trying to impress you. But you weren’t overly impressed by him spending excessive money on a shot of tequila. Especially when you were immediately going to chase it with your gin and tonic. Because truthfully, you hated the taste of tequila but you loved the effect it had on you.
You take the shot as the bartender sets it down, not trusting Owen enough to let him hand it to you. After a quick cheers you pour the liquid down your throat, trying not to wince as you quickly wash away the remnants with your drink.
“I thought you liked tequila,” Owen comments, the breath of laughter that follows was tinged with an obvious annoyance.
Shrugging you lean into the bar, looking up at him. “I don’t love the taste, but you know what they say.”
Owen raises his eyebrows, leaning a little closer to you. “And what is that?”
You knew you shouldn’t say what you were about to say. There was no reason for it. But you were tipsy and you didn’t care about leading anyone on or saying something you shouldn’t. “Tequila makes her clothes fall off.”
“Well in that case I guess I’ll be getting you another shot,” Owen smirks, about to raise his hand up to get the bartender’s attention again.
Quickly you put your hand on his forearm, laughing softly. “If I keep going at this rate the only thing that’s going to be falling is me…on the ground.”
“Okay, okay, but let me know when you’re ready for another.” His eyes move from staring down at you to just behind you and you flinch when you feel a hand on your back.
Whipping your head to the side you let out a breath of relief when you see that it was Jack. “Taylor told me you were over here,” he comments but his voice is quiet and he has his arm around your waist. Normally the two of you were pretty hands off in any situation that wasn’t just the two of you. “Come on, we have a table in the back.”
“I-,” you begin, glancing back at Owen, feeling Jack pull you a little closer as you do. “Sorry, I, um, I have to go. Thank you for the shot.”
“You’re fucking kidding me,” Owen snaps, shaking his head. “Want to tell your boyfriend what you were saying to me?”
“What? He’s not…he’s not my boyfriend,” you stammer but your cheeks are red hot as the tequila was hitting at the same time as the reality of this situation.
Owen scoffs, turning his attention to Jack now. “Do your know your girl is acting like a slut to get free drinks?”
Jack’s hands are off you a second later and he’s stepping around you, putting himself between you and Owen. “Say that again,” Jack snaps.
“Okay, okay,” you interrupt, shuffling yourself back between them. Your hands were on Jack’s chest, pushing him back a few steps. “It’s not worth it, okay? Let’s just go, this night doesn’t need to end like this,” you tell him.
You can tell he’s hesitant but Jack relents, taking your hand and pulling you towards the back of the bar. Before you can reach the table Jack pulls you to the side, his hand on the back of your head as he leans down and kisses you with an intensity that seemed angry. “Woah, okay,” you whisper against his lips as he pulls back.
“You know I’ll buy you all the drinks you want, don’t fucking flirt with other guys for drinks,” Jack mutters, standing up straighter and confirming your suspicion about the anger hidden in the kiss.
“You do not get to tell me not to flirt with other guys, for drinks or for anything else,” you defend, crossing your arms over your chest, trying your best to seem like you were actually upset that he was telling you not to flirt with other guys.
“He was like thirty-five, are you fucking kidding me?”
“Fuck off, Jack,” you snap, stepping away from him. “Just leave me alone.”
“Hey, hey,” Jack comments, groaning as he follows you towards the table where Taylor was sitting and giggling about who knows what.
When you throw yourself down beside Taylor she immediately asks what’s wrong but you simply shake your head, giving her a look to say that you would explain it another time. Jack sits down at the table seemingly as far away from you as possible, slouching down in his seat and picking up the pint of beer that was in front of him. You’re trying not to look at him but you can’t help it, glancing over at him a little too often. You can tell he’s doing the same, your eyes meeting too often for it to be a coincidental. And you’re not even paying attention to any of the conversation happening around you, mind entirely focused on Jack and his behaviour.
You feel Taylor nudge your arm and you look over at her, noticing she must have asked you something and was waiting for a response. “Bathroom?” Taylor repeats, realizing you were lost in whatever you were thinking about. Standing up you follow her to the bathroom where she leans against the counter, giving you a look.
“What’s going on?” she asks.
Sighing you give her a shrug, not even sure yourself what was going on or where to start. “Owen told him I was being a slut to get free drinks which, whatever, I don’t care, but Jack got mad about it. I convinced him it wasn’t worth it to get into anything with Owen. But then he got pissed at me about flirting with Owen.”
Taylor rolls her eyes, lips curling into a smirk. “Hmm, I wonder why,” she comments sarcastically.
“What?” you mutter, arms crossed over your chest. “Because Owen is older? I don’t think Jack should get to decide who I talk to."
“You’re such an idiot,” Taylor breathes out, shaking her head. “He’s jealous.”
“Well he doesn’t have to be such an ass,” you mumble under your breath, starring down at the ground.
“Both of you just need to grow up and have a real conversation about what’s going on with you two.”
“I know,” you admit, looking over at her. “I will…not tonight though.”
“No shit, this is not the time,” she laughs, grabbing your arm and nodding towards the door. As the two of you head back to the table she pauses just behind Jack. “Oh look, a seat for you,” she comments, pushing you towards him before making her way back to the other side of the table.
Hesitantly you sit down in the open spot next to Jack, eyes on the table till you feel him put his arm around the back of your chair, leaning in closer to you. “Hey, I shouldn’t have snapped at you, I’m sorry,” he says, voice quiet to keep the conversation between you and him.
“It’s okay, I shouldn’t have either,” you reply, looking over at him. “Do you want to go get a drink with me?”
Jack nods, following your lead to the bar, leaning against it beside you. “What do you want?”
“I can get my own drinks,” you tell him, still a little shaken up by the acting like a slut to get drinks comment.
“I know you can,” Jack chuckles. “I want to get it.”
Smiling up at him you give in, realistically knowing that wasn’t what Jack was thinking. “You know what I want.”
“Yeah, I do, but what do you want to drink?” Jack jokes, receiving a playful whack on the bicep from you. “Gin and tonic, you want a double?”
“Yes, please.” You’re glancing around the bar as Jack orders the drinks when your eyes land on Taylor, watching the two of you like a hawk. Shaking your head you laugh softly, looking back to Jack.
“What’s so funny?”
“Just, uh, Taylor, she’s,” you begin before nodding in the direction of the table.
Jack takes the hint and looks over, eyebrows furrowed. “Why was she staring?”
“She just…,” you begin, picking up your drink and taking a large gulp, trying to buy yourself some time to explain it. “She thinks you’re jealous and now she’s really invested in us.”
“Jealous of her?”
“No,” you laugh, shaking your head. “Of me with other…guys.”
Jack takes a second for what you were saying to sink in. “I mean, yeah.”
“Yeah, what?”
“I don’t want to see you with other guys, yeah, I was jealous.”
Swallowing heavily you feel your palms become clammy, cheeks beginning to flush. “Why?”
“Because I want you to myself,” Jack says so casually you’re sure you simply misheard him. “Do you want me to go try to get with someone else?”
“No,” you reply so quickly that you’re filled with a deep sense of embarrassment. “I mean, like, probably not, but you can…if you want.”
“I don’t want to,” Jack assures you, the two of you turning and heading back to the table. You take the seat beside Jack again, a little closer this time. Thankfully now that you were a little less distracted you were actually able to pay attention and contribute to the conversation.
When everyone is heading out for the night Jack has his hands all over you, holding your hand or wrapping his arm around your waist. You had no idea what had gotten into him but you were assuming it was his way of asserting to everyone in that bar that you weren’t available. Everyone is standing outside waiting for their rides home and you’re a little tipsy as you press your back into Jack’s chest, tipping your head back onto his shoulder and looking up at him. “Can I come over?”
“Yeah, I kinda just thought you would be.”
You try to hide the fact that his comment makes your heart beat a little faster, your stomach filling with butterflies, an obnoxiously happy smile on your face. Jack wraps his arms over you, pulling you even closer into his body. “Uber should be here soon,” he tells you.
You see Taylor looking at you with a knowing smirk, shaking her head in amusement before turning her attention back to her phone. “I’ll be right back,” you whisper to Jack, slipping from his arms to walk over to Taylor. “How are you getting home? I can come with you if you want.”
“Absolutely not,” Taylor giggles. “Go be with your boyfriend. Liam is going to pick me up.”
You quickly hush her, glancing around to see if anyone had overheard her boyfriend comment. “Okay, I’ll stay till he’s here.”
Once you make sure Taylor is with her boyfriend you head back to Jack’s place in an awkwardly silent Uber, only a handful of words being exchanged till you’re in Jack’s apartment.
“You know I wasn’t going to do anything with him, right?” you tell Jack, sitting on the kitchen counter, drinking a glass of wine from the bottle you had left there the last time you were over.
“Hm?” Jack hums, closing the fridge after getting a beer and walking over to you, standing between your legs.
“I wasn’t going to do anything with him…the guy at the bar.”
Jack lets out a loud breath, setting his beer down and running his hands along your thighs. “I don’t want to hear about you with another guy.”
“I’m telling you I wasn’t going to do anything with him,” you reiterate.
“Good,” Jack comments, pulling you closer to the edge of the counter. “But I still don’t want to hear about it.”
“You really are jealous,” you tease, setting your glass down and leaning down to kiss him.
Jack kisses you back, tugging you off the counter and onto your feet. “Yeah, I am,” he mutters shamelessly. His lips are on yours again a second later and there’s a thrilling intensity to the kiss that you hadn’t experienced with him before. As Jack runs his hands under your shirt, fingers on your bare skin, you moan quietly into his mouth. “Let’s go to my room,” Jack mumbles, pulling back and letting you take the lead.
It doesn’t even feel like a second passes between him closing the door and him pulling the shirt off your body. With a playful smirk you do the same, tugging his shirt off and tossing it aside carelessly. The two of you are back to kissing as you fumble through the dim room to the bed where you push him back and climb onto him, knees on either side of his body. There’s a desperation to the kiss as Jack unhooks your bra, letting you pull back only to take it off your body.
Rolling off of him you watch as he takes your jeans off, hand running up your inner thigh as he moves to hover over you, his lips on your neck, moving down to your chest as you whimper with desperation, hips squirming under him. “Please,” you whine as his fingers brush over the lacy fabric of your underwear, ones that you picked out specifically knowing the inevitably of this situation.
He gives in to your begging, pulling back to tug your underwear off your body. He brings his fingers back exactly where you wanted them, a quiet gasp as his fingers brush over your clit. “Just like that,” you whisper as his fingers hit a rhythm that makes your fingers dig into his back. You’re alternating between kissing him and pulling back to catch your breath, quiet moans emanating from you with increasing frequency, clutching onto him desperately. “Oh, fuck,” you moan as your muscles tense, body jolting with a wave of intense pleasure. “Fuck,” you breathe out again, body relaxing into the bed under him as you stare up at him with a smile you simply couldn’t get rid of.
“You’re so fucking hot,” Jack mutters, eyes not leaving you as you press your hand into his chest, pushing him back till he was standing by the side of the bed.
Climbing off the bed you stand in front of him, kissing him again as your fingers work on the button of his jeans. He pulls back and takes over, the two of you completely naked just a couple seconds later. Not that it was out of the ordinary, at this point you were fairly sure you had spent more time together naked than not.
Lowering yourself to your knees you keep your eyes on him, watching the look of desperation cross his face. Your movements are especially slow, drawing it out, taking pleasure in making him wait for it. His breathing is unsteady and you feel his hand fall to the back of your head, not putting any pressure on it but you got the message loud and clear. Relenting, you let him have exactly what he wants and the groan that you earn as soon as he’s in your mouth makes it worth it. There’s something about the sounds he makes that always encouraged you to give him everything you were capable of. And tonight was no different, your eyes were watering, knees beginning to ache when he pulls you to your feet, nodding towards the bed.
“Get on the bed.”
Sitting on the edge of the bed you lean back on your arms, looking up at him with a smirk as he takes a condom out of the bedside table and slides it on. “I want you inside me,” you whisper, batting your eyes with feigned innocence.
A strangled groan leaves Jack’s lips as he steps over, kissing you quickly before placing his hand on the side of your waist, pushing you sideways. It was far from your first time figuring out his silent communication, turning yourself over onto your hands and knees. He’s still standing beside the bed when he tugs your hips back before easing himself into you. It’s slow and gentle just until your moans give him permission to pick up speed.
His hand is tangled in your hair, tugging your head back as you’re moaning and grasping the bedsheets. “You like that?” Jack mutters, his voice strained.
“Yes,” you gasp as he lets go of your hair, letting you fall back onto your forearms. “Fuck, please, you feel so good,” you whisper, your entire body feeling flushed and shaky as he slams into you at an unrelenting pace. You can tell he’s close to finishing, you knew him well enough to be able to predict it by his changing movements. You find your prediction coming true with Jack pulling out of you just a couple minutes later.
After turning yourself back over you watch him begin cleaning himself up, completely distracted as you contemplate your next move. “Can you hand me my phone? I’m going to Uber home.”
The way Jack whips his head in your direction, eyebrows furrowed makes you giggle quietly. “What? Why?”
Laughing you sit up straighter, shaking your head. “I’m kidding,” you tell him. “But it’s cute that you don’t want me to leave.”
“I didn’t say that,” Jack tells you but there’s not even an ounce of him that tries to make it sound convincing.
Rolling your eyes you lay back down, staring up at the ceiling. “You and I both know you don’t need to say it out loud.”
Jack is quiet for a second and you begin to wonder if he had gone into the bathroom. “Yeah,” Jack finally mumbles before actually retreating into the bathroom.
It’s easy to fall asleep that night. Easier than it had been in a very long time. You didn’t know what it was, the remnants of alcohol in your bloodstream, the physical exhaustion from everything that had happened in the last hour, the feeling of Jack’s arm wrapped around your body, or something much more meaningful than that.
It’s not often that you wake up after Jack but on this morning you did, thankfully less hungover than you were expecting to be. Crawling out of Jack’s bed you pull one of his t-shirts on, heading out to find him in the living room. “Morning,” you say softly, walking over and lowering yourself onto the couch next to him.
“How’re you feeling?”
Shrugging you pull your legs up onto the couch, leaning your side against the back of it so that you could face Jack. “Honestly, pretty good. I don’t think I was really even drunk last night. How about you?”
“I only had like five drinks and almost a full one of those is still sitting in the kitchen with your wine.”
“Sorry for not letting you finish it,” you joke. A moment later you take a deep breath, looking into his eyes. “Jack, we need to talk.”
“Okay,” Jack mutters, waiting for you to go on with a look of confusion on his face.
You knew you just needed to say it, that there wouldn’t be an easy way to say it so you just had to do it. “I like you, Jack. I mean, I have feelings for you and I don’t know what this is for you but I don’t know if I can keep doing this if it’s not going to become anything more.”
Jack is quiet for so long that you begin to prepare for what you expect is coming next. This really was just a friends with benefits thing for him.
“I thought last night made it obvious enough that I do too.”
“What?” is all you manage to croak out, not fully believing him and not wanting to get your hopes up that he was saying what you were hoping he was saying.
“I want this to be more.”
“Like…,” you begin, not knowing what to even ask after that, not wanting to embarrass yourself and say something that he wasn’t meaning.
“I want more, I want to actually be with you,” Jack tells you, seeming much more calm about the situation than you were.
Simply hearing him say what you had been desperately hoping for leaves you speechless. “I want that too,” you finally whisper.
Jack reaches over and grabs your hands, tugging you forward to straddle him. “I hated seeing you flirting with another guy,” Jack mutters, his hands under your shirt, resting on your waist. “I didn’t know what to say about it without just telling you the truth.”
“I promise it didn’t mean anything, I had no interest in him, but I’m sorry that it upset you.”
“As long as you don’t do it anymore.”
“Of course not,” you assure him with a quiet giggle, leaning in and pressing your lips to his gently. “When are you going to take me on a date? A real one, without our friends there.”
“Tomorrow night?” Jack suggests, getting a nod in response from you before you’re kissing him again.
This time when you’re kissing him it feels different, there’s no expectation that the only purpose it served was as the first step towards sex. It felt so much more comfortable, safer now knowing that if you were going to get hurt in this situation it wouldn’t be the result of not having the courage to tell him how you really felt.
#nhl fanfic#nhl imagines#nhl fic#nhl one shot#nhl fanfiction#jack hughes fic#jack hughes fanfiction#jack hughes imagine#jack hughes one shot#jack hughes fanfic#jack hughes imagines#nhl imagine
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Bestieee if you're taking requests, could you write about dom! Gavi and like degr@dat!on. Idk why I'm so nervous writing this request lol but love your work xx
Okay so I know I have a lot of other requests in my inbox but I feel like writing a bit of smut today so that’s what we’re gonna do ladies. SMUT!! MDNI!! 18+!! IF UR A MINOR GO AWAY!!!
Hands on Learning
“Could you please not slam the doors?”
You looked at Gavi seething. Everything in the world was irritating you today. Everyone was breathing too loud. You had been caught in the pouring rain, slipping multiple times due to your heels. You had gotten coffee on your favorite white blouse, causing you to be late for an important meeting. But more than that, your coworker Antony was getting too comfortable with you again. He would lean his hand on you, put his arms across your shoulders, and call you “sweetheart” despite multiple requests for him to stop. He walked you to your car after multiple offers to buy you drinks, telling you that your “little boyfriend” could wait a little longer. As you told him to fuck off in the most professional way possible, you got the text from Gavi.
“Traffic accident on the road cause of the rain. Be careful driving home.”
It was a sweet message. He had checked your route and was now concerned about your safety. But you didn’t want it - not today. Today you were annoyed and this didn’t help. You didn’t want him to be nice. You wanted to unleash your anger on someone, but Gavi, sweet and loving as he was, gave you no reason to. So now you were speeding on the highway to Gavi’s, cursing yourself for promising to come over for dinner. All it took was this simple request for you not to ruin his doors to set you off.
“Don’t tell me what to fucking do.”
Gavi raised one eyebrow at the reply, watching you bend over to take your shoes off.
“Bad day?” He asked, trying to keep his voice mellow and understanding. Pablo Gavi was gentle by nature. He was not someone that enjoyed raising his voice or using harsh language. But when he got heated, all bets were off the table. He was ready to swear, yell, hit things - Pablo was the definition of fuck around and find out.
“I don’t want to fucking talk about it.”
Your shoes were off as you made a move towards the bedroom to get changed, not sparing a glance over your shoulder. A hand tugged your wrist, and you were pulled back suddenly, until you felt the wall behind you, a hand slammed roughly beside your head. You were caged in against the wall by Gavi’s arm, his eyes burning into you. His tongue ran along his teeth, and the “I messed up” feeling started to sink in.
“I don’t know who you think you’re giving that tone to, but you should know better than to use it with me.”
Your eyes met his, eyebrows still knitted together in anger, but the fear causing your body to tense and a knot to form in your throat. He brought a hand to your face, running his thumb across your bottom lip. A shiver runs through you, causing him to smile viscously.
“I don’t know what the fuck is your problem today. I frankly don’t fucking care. You’re going to learn today that little sluts like you need to have some respect.”
Pablo slams himself into you, lips bruising yours from the force. Teeth clash as you try to keep up with his pace, but it’s so much that once he pulls away your gasping for breath.
“Pablo, Pablo I’m-“
“What? You’re sorry now?” He narrows his eyes and spits out a laugh. The wetness between your legs continues to grow - you had brought out this side of Gavi before, and it was always the best fuck of your life.
“You don’t get to be sorry now, whore. Oh no. Little sluts like you don’t get off with an apology.”
He pulled you in by your throat, kissing you harshly as his fingers pressed into the flesh, cutting off the blood flow and making spots appear on your vision.
“Little sluts like you are too brain dead from being fucking into oblivion.”
He held your collar, pulling you into the bedroom. Your knees hit the back of the bed, Pablo’s grip the only thing keeping you from falling.
“Little sluts like you need to be taught lessons. They need to feel their punishments so they can remember.”
He placed his fingers on the center of your blouse, fingers slipping in between the buttons. You wanted to beg him to leave your favorite shirt alone, but you were too hazy from the thrill of Gavi speaking to you like this that you didn’t care.
“Because no one likes a cum dump with an attitude.”
He gripped your blouse tightly and pulled, muscles flexing as he ripped the short open, buttons rattling to the floor. It wasn’t enough. He placed his hands on the back seam, ripping it open as well. The tearing sound only make you more wet as he pulled the two halves from your torso, leaving your bra exposed to him. He pushed you back on the bed, fingers hooking into your skirt and pulling it down.
He kissed the “6” anklet that dangled off on you, looking up at you from between your legs. He kissed up your legs, placing a kiss on your clothes core. You whimpered, eager for more than just the light pressure of his lips on your panties. He slid an arm under you, and flipped you onto your stomach. He placed an arm either side of you, coming closer to your ear.
“Aw poor thing. Now you want to beg and cry? Now you want to let out those sweet little sounds that you know drive papi crazy. I hope you don’t think that’ll make me go easier on this pathetic little pussy.”
He kissed at the protruding vein on your neck, causing your moans to get louder and less restricted. Your ass arched up into him, grinding against his hardening cock.
“Such a good whore that you just grind into my dick ok instinct.”
He keeping kissing down your back until he reaches the hand of your bra, unhooking it quickly and letting it fall.
“Let me see those tits. How many guys have known how truly depraved you are? So hungry for this cock you can’t even speak.”
He leaned back up, grabbing your hips and grinding into your ass. He ran his hands on the tights covering your legs, grabbing them at the center. You waited with bated breath to hear the fabric rip, but it never came. You looked over your shoulder at him, eyes swimming with lust.
“Beg.”
He was looking down at you, smirking widely with his tongue in his check. His hand was circling your ass, feeling the warmth of the flesh beneath his palm. You buried your face in the pillow, your eyes burning and pussy dripping. You wanted him to fuck you, no, needed him to fuck you until you went limp. But you weren’t prepared to beg for it. A sudden smack landed in your ass, causing you to gasp and yelp in surprise. You lurched forward at the impact, falling forward onto the mattress. Another one landed in the same spot, this one harder.
“So fucking rude. So fucking stubborn. So undeserving of this fat cock. But you’ll die without it won’t you?”
Smack. Smack. A fist in your hair, tugging you upward to rest on your elbows again. Another hard smack, your ass getting redder with every one.
“You’ll fall apart if you’re not bouncing on top of m, pussy clenching around me. I bet your cunt is crying right now, wanting me to fuck it so bad. I know exactly what your dirty disgusting little brain is thinking: I wish Papi would fuck me to death.”
Tears were steaming down your face, more being created with every harsh smack to your ass. But you were so fucking turned on and aching, clenching around nothing.
“I’m not going to stop. Aggressive cunts like you don’t get mercy. The only way I’ll let up on your poor blushing ass if if you beg. So beg, puta.”
It took everything in you to muster some voice.
“P-please. Please please Pablo.”
His grip on your hair tightened, pulling you further back. Your scalp began to burn from the pulling.
“Please what? What do you want from me?”
You looked at him with puffy red eyes and swollen lips as he waited for a response. He lifted a hand to his ear, pretending he couldn’t hear you.
“Pablo please. I need you.”
“Need me for what?”
“Fuck me Pablo!! I need you to fuck me! Please please plea-“
Your begging was interrupted by the sound of fabric tearing, Gavi finally tearing your tights apart, the gaping hole giving him access to your panties .
“Look at how big this fucking wet spot is. You really are a fucking slut. Look how much you want to swallow this dick. You want it? How bad?”
“So bad Papi! So so bad. Please fuck me.”
At your begging, he pushed your head into the mattress, moving your panties, gripping them tightly to rip them in half. The pieces hung off in you as he ran a finger through your folds, feeling your wetness as he slid his pulsing erection into you with one hard thrust. You gasped out, gripping at the sheets.
He placed his hands on your hips, and started to fuck you with reckless abandon. Skin slapping was heard around the room, coupled with your high pitched moans and Pablo’s low, guttural gasp. He pulled you into him as he trust, cock hitting you deeply. He moved one hand up to grab at your boob, fucking you fast and hard.
“You want to cum baby?”
The question had you seeing stars. You wanted to cum around him so bad.
“Please papi. Please. Wanna cum. Let me please.”
Gavi smiled at how fucked out you were. You couldn’t even form a full sentence with his coco buried deep inside you.
“Tell me you’re sorry for being bitchy to me earlier.”
He smacked your ass again, and you cried out louder than you ever had. You were getting closer to the edge until he stopped abruptly, pulling his whole cock out except for the head.
“You’re a slut. I’m going to treat you like a cum dump when necessary. You want more than that? Fucking apologize.”
“Im sorry for being a bitch to you. I’m sorry I was a cunt when I walked in the door. I wanted to get fucked and I’m sorryyyyy.” You whined out the last part as Gavi brought a hand down, two fingers rubbing your clit.
His breathing got heavy as he resumed his rushed thrusts, and you felt like you were ascending to heaven. Your kissy clenched down on Pablo tightly, making it harder for him to thrust, but making every movement even more fucking amazing. His fingers were digging into your hips, bruising your hip as he fucked all his frustration into you.
“Papi I- cumming… please don’t stop please.”
He kept his pace as you came undone around his cock, moaning so loudly that the entire street could hear. He kept thrusting into you, helping you ride out your high. He pulled out, flipping you onto your back, before entering you roughly again. The overstimulation started to set in, bring a fresh set of tears to your eyes. Pablo was quickly approaching his own orgasm, head thrown back as he thrust into you fast and hard, and you swore you could feel it in your throat.
“Too much Pablo I-“
“Your slut pussy can take it. You want my cum? You want to be my pretty little cum dumpster? Come on baby, take it. Take it.”
You brought your hand to his chest, feeling his racing heartbeat against your palm. He took your hand, lacing your fingers together, and leaned over. His muscles were tensed as he punted you into the mattress. Be came shortly after, a guttural moan escaping his throat as he filled you with his warm load. Your head fell back, the sensation too overwhelming. He breathed deeply before he looked at your gaping hole, eyes widening as he watches his cum drip from your spent cunt. He uses two fingers to push it back into you, making you gasp, but you were too weak to move.
He finally laid down next to you, offering out a hand for you to cuddle into. You moved towards him, resting your head on his chest, enjoying the warmth of him.
“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, “for my attitude when I came home.”
He looked at you lovingly, kissing the top of your head. He clutched you closer to his chest, sleeping threatening to consume him.
“It’s okay, mi amor. You know I love funking that attitude out of you. Get some sleep now, we can talk in the morning.”
~~~
A/N: hey y’all - can someone explain why writing on this app makes me so incredibly sleepy??? Anyways, hope you enjoyed this degrading Gavi fic. I didn’t know if he had it in him until he stepped to Vini at the Classico. He for sure calls girls he sleeps with “sluts” but I’m all for it 😋 anyways, send me asks, leave comments, love y’all 🥰
#gavisuntiedboot#gavisuntiedbootasks#pablo gavi#pablo gavi x reader#gavi#gavi x reader#gavi x you#pablo gavi imagine#fc barca#gavi imagine#pablo gavi smut#gavi smut#gavi one shot#pablo gavi one shot#pablo gavi x reader smut#pablo gavi fanfiction#gavi fic#pablo gavi fanfic#gavi fanfic
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Hiii, would it be possible if you could write a scenario where there’s a new ghoul and the pack has a hierarchy, so she’s trying to figure out where she fits in and maybe challenges mountain or one of the other male ghouls and he/they put her in her place by getting her to submit to him/them…? Thank you!
do you mean sex? i think you mean sex. i’m writing sex
also sorry this took so fucking long, i'm depressed lmao
Warnings- ghouls are kind of mean/territorial, they are rude to you! hatefuckingggg, semi public methinks, fingering, a little bit of smacking yk, unprotected sex don't be like them, choking sorta, kind of a quickie
It's like she isn't even there.
She doesn't know her place yet. She doesn't even have the dynamics of the pack figured out, and they've still yet to properly fit her uniform to her body. They brought her a size too big, just in case- it's baggy around the waist and the pants and sleeves are certainly too long. There's even an inch too much space between her toe and the front of the shoe. She is, in every way, out of place. The rookie.
The first thing that set her off was Dew- of course it was him and his attitude- he gave Y/n the meanest side-eye, glaring daggers at her. She's an intruder. Sure, maybe intruders are dangerous in the pit, but this isn't the pit. This isn't the pit, and she isn't trying to threaten anyone, and it's starting to get exhausting.
The older ghouls are more powerful- they're stronger and they're better, yes. But it would be nice to feel welcome.
The final thing that made her snap was at dinner, in the dining hall, in front of everyone.
"Why are you acting like I hardly exist?" She blurted out after being ignored. Repeatedly.
“Why do you act like you can come in here and be on top of us all?” Dew growled back at her, pinning his ears.
“I’m not!”
“You two,” Aether finally said, attempting to diffuse the situation. “Relax.”
The two ghouls bore their teeth at each other, growling lowly.
“You’re only making things more complicated. You’ll get used to each other eventually.” Mountain chimed in, placing his clasped hands on the table. At the end of the table, Phantom and Rain sat in silence, ignoring the conflict as they sipped on the beef stew they’d been served.
“Shut up!” She snapped at Mountain, who frowned.
“Don’t yell.”
“Don’t tell me what to do!”
Mountain sighed, rising from his seat and standing at his full height. He grabbed her by the sleeve and she hissed at him. “Let me go! Let go!”
The rest of the pack sat without objecting, looking away as Mountain dragged Y/n away from the table and down the hall.
Eventually, he stopped and slammed her into a wall. "You don't understand! I'm sick of your fucking attitude!"
Fear flashed in her eyes. Not enough to stop her. "Let me go!"
"Shut up!"
She went silent at his command. Mountain was big. And he was strong. And she wasn't quite so sure that she could take him if he got aggressive. She wasn't quite thinking straight- "...Make me."
With that, he grabbed her hands and pinned her to the wall. His lips pressed to hers, the kiss filled with what was either passion or rage. Maybe both.
"Don't you fucking talk back to me." He growled after pulling away for air and then diving back in. His hands moved to grab at her waist, squeezing and groping and pulling at her uniform. Y/n's hands reached for his collar and grasped at it like a lifeline.
It didn't take long for him to finally reach her belt and unclasp it with shockingly nimble hands. As soon as it was undone, he slid down her pants and underwear without shame. His fingers made their way to her hole and rubbed at her folds. She let out a moan and he smacked her thigh in warning.
Without sparing any discomfort, he slid two fingers in and moved to bite at her jawline. She gasped and clawed at his back, head dropping back against the wall. "I fucking hate you."
"I don't like you much either."
Right as she was almost there, about to cum, he pulled away. He fucking pulled away.
"F-Fuck you!"
He growled under his breath in response, mumbling something incoherent as he undid his own belt and pulled his cock out of his underwear. He grabbed Y/n's shoulders and spun her around so her chest was pressed against the wall.
He slid the tip of his cock between her folds, eliciting a soft moan from his throat. Without warning, Mountain pushed in in one thrust and Y/n let out a loud groan. The stretch was agonizing and incredible and too much all at once. When he grabbed her waist and started giving shallow thrusts, he was hitting her sweet spot just right. One of his hands pressed against the wall for balance and the other came to wrap around her throat, resting there as a symbol of the power he held.
"M-Mountain!"
"Say it again."
"Oh f-fuck, Mountain, fuck-" She gasped for air as he picked up the pace, groaning. The ghouls in the dining room had to be able to hear them now.
"Come on, fuck..." He groaned, mercilessly speeding up. The hand around her neck tightened. "Can't last long, you're so fucking tight."
She sobbed out in a mix of pleasure and pain, trembling fingers coming to rub at her swollen clit. She wouldn't last long, either, and she would never live that down. You can't just move on after getting fucked by someone you hate and cumming within minutes.
Moments later, she came with a cry, clamping down on his dick. If he wasn't pressing her body into the wall, she might have collapsed. Mountain climaxed not long after, shooting his load deep inside of her.
Mountain was quick to recover, pulling Y/n's pants back up and buttoning them again while she tried to catch her breath. He had returned to his calm, easy-going demeanor easily, though there was a hint of smugness under his tone when he finally spoke.
"I take it you've learned your lesson?"
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Aftercare with the anemo boys shwjendh TT
My sibling in Christ, yES HDIDUKEJ!!!
Apologies for Heizou and Xiao’s part’s being short! God decided to send a vibe check this morning and gave me a heart attack so I finished writing this from hospital while super tired >_>
Warnings: fluff, pretty suggestive (especially in Heizou’s), established relationship, swearing, gn!reader, not proof-read.
Characters: venti, kazuha, wanderer, heizou, xiao.
Venti~
He would be so smug and caring at the same time wtf?
Be prepared for a lot of teasing.
Definitely actives his archonic-ego
If you find it hard to stand or walk, he’d absolutely carry you bridal style!
Though good luck getting him out of bed to begin with-
Dudes gonna be clinging to you like a imprinted koala!
Lots of nuzzling and kisses!
After ya’ll did the do, he’d make sure to check you over at least three times to make sure you’re ok~
And I mean thoroughly check you over.
He’d bring you water and sliced apples along with a nice cool cloth for your head!
He absolutely gets a little worried that he’s too rough!
He does his best to make sure he doesn’t go too far but he is still an archon that has levelled mountains T-T
Kisses every mark he made on you with such gentleness istg-
Refuses to break eye contact jdudikedj
Once he’s made sure that you’re ok then teasing.exe is activated.
Brace yourself with this man.
“So, love. How does it feel to be worshiped by a god?”
“You did so well, Windblume. Now relax and let this archon take care of his most precious beloved~”
He’d absolutely lay your head on his chest while playing with your hair!
He’d also him you to sleep with songs he made just for you~
Goes through a whole list of reasons why he thinks you’re perfect.
Once he see’s that your asleep, he’ll have the softest smile while he takes in your peaceful expression~
He’s so in love with you and even if you can’t hear him, he’ll still make sure to tell you that every chance he gets~
Kazuha~
Slams fists on table.
HE. ADORES. YOU!!!!!!!!!!!
Praises, lot’s of praises-
Pretty praises from pretty boy.
He’s always extremely gentle with you and rarely leaves any marks unless you ask him to T-T
If he does then he’ll lay there while gently tracing them with his fingers while telling you how pretty the colour is against your skin~
You think you’re going to walk anywhere after?
You buffoon.
You will not be allowed out of bed until he’s certain that you’ve completely recovered!
He always makes sure to ask if you’re ok!
Makes you triple promise that he didn’t hurt you by accident.
He’s very big on trust so he would never want you to hide it if he did go a little too rough!
He’ll bring you fruits and nuts (giggle) to help build your energy back up along with the freshest water he can find hduxuxudu.
This man will wrap you up in his arms while staring at you for ages just taking in how perfect you look!
If you hate eye contact then please pull this man out of his trance or he won’t stop sdukkdjd.
“Ah, my apologies, was I staring? I couldn’t help myself, dove. Not when your eyes glisten as brightly as the stars in the night sky~”
He’ll give off the cutest little giggles when you say something that flusters him istg.
Then somehow pulls the most flirtatious and smooth line you’ve ever heard in your life and then acts surprised when you get flustered???
He has and will continue to make countless poems and haikus about how you make him feel.
He has a special “private” book of poems for very specific aspects of you that he loves-
Always makes sure you fall asleep with a forehead and nose kiss.
He’s made it like a cute lil’ ritual T-T
Also random but he’ll often recite poems in his own language to you!
Even if you don’t understand him, he still feels like it’s even more intimate to show you that side of him hhzhsus.
Wanderer~
Inhales-
My precious little goose.
My pretty, beautiful, perfect little goose.
God I need to write a ns!fw fic on this man. I need him to slam me against a wall ysuxudijd
If you got this man in this position then holy fuck, you absolute god.
Don’t expect him to be openly fluffy with you.
He’s going to get flustered and then mad because he’s flustered.
He’ll show you love in his own strange little ways!
He personally checks you over and cleans you up.
Does he insult you while doing so?
Maybe.
But in a loving way :)
“Look, idiot. It’s my job to make sure you’re alright. Don’t argue with me on this or I won’t do it again.”
He’s lying. He will.
Similar to kazuha, he knows nutrition.
He’ll bring you high energy foods along with juice or water!
You will have marks.
Lots of them.
But don’t worry, he’ll make sure to kiss every single one better!
Boy acts all tough but it’s very obvious that he adores you.
He won’t let you out of bed for at least a day.
He also refuses to let you out if his sight since he knows full well you’re going to be stubborn and get up.
There’s always a moment before you fall asleep where he’ll be completely soft with you!
He despises it but he also can’t help but love it at the same time.
He’ll tell you how well you did and how happy you make him feel.
He always insists on being big spoon so he can cuddle you up as close as possible and nuzzle his face into your neck while leaving lil’ kisses T-T
“You’re such a idiot, but… you’re my idiot, ok? Don’t you dare forget that!”
It’s a rare sight but it’s his way of reassuring himself that you’re still there and won’t leave him.
Since he doesn’t need sleep, he usually just lays next to you while you dream away happily and just admire you.
He feels comfortable enough to let his guard down when he knows you can’t see him so he’ll always have this adorable little smile on his face when he whispers a flustered “I love you” making sure not to wake you up.
Heizou~
AAAAAAAAAA!?
This little shits gonna be riding his ego all the way to Celestia and back.
Similarly to venti, he’s gonna be super flirty and tease you persistently.
Also like wanderer, you’ll have marks-
Man is kinky-
He’d always insist on getting you water before wrapping his arms around you under the blankets and just stays there for like 30 minutes.
“Oh hush now, you think I’m going to leave you alone in a cold bed? Man alive, partner. Do I have to prove my feelings for you again, hmm~?”
Praises you so much!
Whispers how hot you are and how wonderful you make him feel owo.
What’s that? You think you see him blushing?
Pffft totally not? It’s just the saké m’hm yep totally.
I head-canon that he’s super amazing at making milkshakes so he totally makes you one to “cool you down”
He just looks like a milkshake kinda dude, shut up >:(
Reads you crime novels while you’re all snuggled up T-T
He’ll also sing to you!! You can not tell me that he’s not a good singer istg-
Lots of ear nibbles and neck smooches uwu
I don’t think he actually has much or if any experience with aftercare but he’s definitely a natural at it somehow????
Do not mention it to anyone though, he’ll turn it right round on you and you’ll end up losing what dignity you have left jfgcudu
Also he’ll usually get so into praising you and telling you how good you are that round two is pretty much inevitable aAAA
All in all- he’s a little brat. but a brat that loves you beyond comprehension! uwu
Xiao~
HE DON’T KNOW
:(((
You’ll have to teach him what it is.
It’s not his fault!!!! He never did this stuff before he met you :(
Though saying that. He’s naturally very protective of you and would be mortified if he hurt you in any way what so ever-
So he catches on pretty fast! It’s basically second nature to him even though his process is a little awkward sometimes.
He’ll always make sure to tuck you into bed and even if he can’t stay all night because of his duties as a Yaksha he’ll still make sure to leave you with a small note saying that he’ll return soon and that he love’s you, along with a Qingxin!!
Not to mention the softest and prettiest kiss you’ll ever receive.
He’ll sometimes get a lil’ too serious when checking you over and he can get very stern with how you rest up and drink water!
He doesn’t mean to sound bossy! He doesn’t understand how mortals work so he’s using what knowledge he has on human bodies gdjfixiudi.
Pretty boi will always be flustered afterwards so he’ll hide his face away into your chest or your neck while caressing your knuckles or back~
He’s definitely not much of a talker so often times it’ll just be the two of you cuddling up together while he just silently plays with your hair.
Sometimes, if he’s feeling super confident he’ll whisper soft praises to you along with how lucky he is T-T
“I… I really don’t deserve you, but I hope you know that there isn’t a force strong enough to stop these feelings towards you my love”
Brings you food that’s been personally cooked up by the chief at wangshu inn along with juice or water!
He doesn’t understand why you’d need those things but he still obliges albeit a little hesitantly.
Reward him with kisses and encouragement!
He really wants to do his best to pamper you but he just needs a lil’ practice that’s all T-T
Also he’s such a bad liar so please be prepared for a very amused Zhongli when he asks why Xiao’s been acting a little…differently today-
Dude I decided to pull on genshin with some premos I got from the daily award thing and I got my boy Tighnari. I’m as broke for mora as Zhongli’s voluptuous ass cheeks with building kazuha and heizou now I have a sassy furry to tend to as well T-T
I can’t believe I missed the new 3.8 trailer but I’ve heard that wanderer, my stinky little baby boy Snooki-pookie-wookums will be running a banner aaAAAAAAAA time to save up and farm for artifacts again :))))))
#genshin impact#genshin imagines#genshin boyfriend scenarios#genshin impact scenarios#genshin scenarios#genshin fluff#genshin headcanons#genshin impact fluff#genshin impact headcanons#genshin impact venti#genshin impact kazuha#genshin impact wanderer#heizou genshin impact#genshin impact xiao#venti#kazuha#wanderer#heizou#xiao#venti headcanons#kazuha headcanons#wanderer headcanons#heizou headcanons#xiao headcanons#venti scenarios#kazuha scenarios#wanderer scenarios#heizou scenarios#xiao scenarios#genshin drabbles
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Nine to Five - Obey Me! Boys and a Burnt-out MC
*crawls out of a trench* I LIVE BITCHES
Sorry I haven't been active, turns out working 40 hours a week is exhausting. Which is what inspired this piece because there are all scenarios I've imagined in order to get myself through a particularly rough shift.
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Lucifer: It smelled like coffee.
The scent was strong enough to give the human pause. Did they make coffee this morning before leaving for work? They honestly couldn’t remember, but even then, there was no way that the smell would still be lingering throughout the house nine hours later.
They probably would have been a bit more curious if the exhaustion of working all day wasn’t pressing down on them. All they could bring themself to think about was falling face-first into bed. Maybe a nice hot shower to relax their sore muscles if they could stay awake long enough. Even just standing in the doorway taking their shoes off was draining what last precious bits of energy they had.
“Oh, good, you’re back.”
They yelped, almost slamming their head against the wall as they jumped at the sudden noise.
Standing in the doorway, taking a sip of coffee out of one of their old, slightly chipped mugs, was Lucifer.
“I - huh - you - Lucifer?” they stammered, reeling from the absurdity of the situation. The Avatar of Pride looked completely out of place in their dingy one-bedroom apartment.
“Are you surprised?” he smirked, placing the mug on the coffee table on his way across the room. “You’ve been so busy with work these days, I figured I would come visit you.”
“But aren’t you busy too?” the human asked, finally managing to kick their shoes back into place and meeting Lucifer by the table. “Making sure your brothers don’t set the Devildom on fire?”
“My dear, I would set the Devildom on fire myself if it meant spending an evening with you after so long,” Lucifer engulfed them in a hug, and for a moment they allowed themself to melt into the familiar warmth before they pulled away to look at him.
“So you left Barbatos in charge, right?”
“Of course.”
Mammon: They hated taking the bus.
Standing around in freezing weather waiting for it was awful, it was always crowded and it was late a solid sixty percent of the time, if it even showed up at all. But it was cheaper than buying gas, and parking where they lived was a nightmare, so they had to pick the lesser of two evils.
At least there was room in the shelter this time. The plexiglass didn’t do much to protect them from the wind and the freezing rain, but it was better than nothing.
Shivering, they stared out at the cars driving past with slight envy. Some heat sounded lovely right about now. Even though they were wearing gloves and had their hands shoved in their pockets, they could still feel the tips of their fingers beginning to go numb.
One of the cars pulled up to the stop. A sleek, silver sports car with tinted windows, definitely the kind that had heated seats. It wasn’t that unusual from someone to get dropped off at the bus stop, so the human didn’t really pay thay much attention until the window rolled down.
“Hey, need a ride?”
THe human’s head snapped up at the sound of the voice. “Mammon?”
“The one and only,” Mammon grinned at them from behind his shades. “Damn, you do this every day? How haven’t you gotten frostbite yet?”
“Humans aren’t that fragile,” the human huffed, stepping up to the car. “But there have been a few close calls.”
“Well, come on, then, get in,” Mammon motioned to them with his head. “Lucifer will string me up if he hears I let your fragile human fingers fall off, and there’s a line of cars behind me about to get real mad.”
They could see the other people at the bus shelter staring at them in the reflection of the car, so they quickly opened the door and hopped in. Almost immediately, feeling began to return to their extremities, and they sighed as Mammon started driving. “Thanks, Mammon.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Mammon replied, reaching over to hit a button on the dashboard. Yup, called it, heated seats. “Can’t have my human freezing to death.”
Leviathan: “You’re late.”
It would never fail to surprise them how well the internet connection worked between dimensions. There was no way Levi should be able to voice chat with them from the Devildom but here they were.
“Sorry,” they mumbled, adjusting their headset. “Just got home, boss asked me to stay another hour since someone called off.”
“Tch,” Levi clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “Sounds annoying.”
“Kinda,” they shrugged. “But money’s money, y’know?”
“You sound like Mammon,” Levi snorted. “Don’t go doing shady things to pay off debts.”
“I’m not doing anything shady,” they laughed. “Aside from indulging in capitalism but I don’t have much of a choice in that.”
“Rip.”
They were about to reply when they got a glimpse of themself in the camera. Oof, they looked rough. Their hair was messy, they were practically sliding down their desk chair, and they looked like they were about to fall asleep.
Apparently Levi noticed as well, because his expression twisted into something like concern. “You alright?”
“It was very people-y out today,” the human replied, shrugging. Now that the work flow state had been interrupted, the tiredness was started to seep in and they realized how exhausted they were. But Levi and them gamed the same time every week, and it was the only thing giving them incentive to not just crawl into bed and hide from the world.
“We don’t have to play tonight,” Levi said. “If you’re too tired.”
“No, I want to!” they sat up straighter in their chair. “Really, I do.”
“The raid will still be going on tomorrow,” Levi said, clicking around at something on his screen. “...Yup, 13 hours remaining. You’re not going to be much help if you pass out mid-dungeon, so let’s just save it for later.”
“Levi, are you prioritizing me over video games?” the human play-gasped, pressing a hand to their chest in sarcastic shock. “Be still my heart!”
“Sh-Shut up!” he stammered, blush visible even in the blue light coming from his computer screen. “I’m just not missing out on good loot because you can’t stay awake! It’s not because I care about your wellbeing or anything!”
“Oh my God, you tsundere,” they laughed. “Fine, I’ll go take a nap.”
Satan: “...and then, there was this other guy…”
The human was well aware that they had been ranting and raving for far longer than was probably socially appropriate. But they were tired, both physically and emotionally, and Satan was a great person to bitch to.
The brothers were all under strict orders not to bother them while they were at work, but Satan had heard that and went “challenge accepted.” He showed up after their shift was over to get coffee at least three times a week, and when Lucifer had called him out on it, Satan had smirked and said, “I’m not bothering them while they’re at work, I’m coming to see them after their shift.” And as much as Lucifer had wanted to reprimand him, Satan had gotten him on a technicality.
Satan had long drained his coffee, sitting there and idly drumming his fingers against the empty cup as the human regaled him with horror stories of their job. He looked way more invested than he should have been, honestly.
“Satan, just tell me to shut up already.”
“I would never.”
The human huffed out a laugh, taking a sip of their rapidly-cooling drink. “First of all, you would, and have. Second of all, there is no way you are this into me bitching about people at work.”
“I’m the Avatar of Wrath,” Satan replied. “Bitching is quite literally in my blood. And out of all my brothers, I’m the one who understands how vital it is to let off steam the most.”
“...so then, this absolute Karen comes up…”
Asmodeus: Why did their keys always end up in the bottom of their bag?
All they wanted to do was get inside their apartment and flop down on the nearest comfortable surface, but of course they couldn’t find their keys in the hot mess that was their work bag. They had to be in there, they had definitely locked the door this morning -
“Ugh, honestly, what is taking so long?”
The human froze as their door opened to reveal Asmodeus, clad in a silk pink bathrobe that they could only assume was the only thing making him decent. He was pouting, hands on his hips.
“Asmo, what the actual fu-”
“I wanted to see your surprised face when you walked in and saw me all spread out on your bed, but you were taking too long!” he huffed.
“How did you get in my house?” they asked.
“That’s not important!” Asmo grabbed their sleeve and tugged them inside. “The important part is that I have a surprise for you! Well, more than just me being here, which is a delightful surprise all on its own!”
He guided them into their bedroom, gesturing to their bed with a flourish. “Ta-da!”
In the center of the bed was a very large basket filled with various types of spa supplies. Different scented body washes, bath salts, scrubs, face masks, all arranged neatly in the basket with a pink bow tied around the handle.
“Whoa, you got all of this for me?” they asked, stepping up to inspect the products. Quite a few of them were stuff they had complimented Asmo on in the past, but there were a few things that seemed like the demon had tailored them specifically to things that they liked.
“Of course!” Asmo grinned. “You’ve been working yourself to the bone lately, darling, I can tell. No human of mine is going to have eye bags unless they’re Prada.”
Instinctively, they touched the skin beneath their eyes. Did they really look that bad?
“Oh, don’t look so worried,” Asmo took their face in his hands, thumbs training over their cheekbones. “I’m going to take good care of you tonight.”
Beelzebub: “I really forgot my lunch.”
They could kick themself, they really could. They had been in such a rush to get out the door this morning that they left their lunch on the counter. By the time they realized it, they were already clocking in for their shift. Now they were left staring longingly at the empty spot in the fridge where their lunch would be and trying not to think about how hungry they were.
“Hey,” one of their coworkers called their name. “Some guy out there is looking for you.”
“Huh?” they asked. “Who?”
“Didn’t say his name,” their coworker responded. “Really tall, ginger, built like a brick shit house -”
“Beel?” they stood from their seat. “What would he be doing here?”
Their coworker shrugged, going over to the cupboard to get a plate. “Dunno, but he’s out there.”
Frowning in confusion, they left the break area and poked their head around the corner. Sure enough, there stood Beelzebub in all of his excessively jacked glory. Even in his human form he made most humans look like toys.
“Beel, what are you doing here?” they made their way over to him. When he noticed them, his face broke out into a wide grin and he reached down to envelope them in a hug. Even in their confusion, they couldn’t resist hugging him back.
“I brought you lunch,” he said, voice rumbling through his torso as he spoke. It took a minute for the human to register what he was saying.
“What?”
“You said you forgot your lunch, so I brought you some,” he held out the bag of fast-food. “You should probably take it before I eat it.”
They had texted Beel earlier bemoaning their forgotten lunch bag, since he would be the most sympathetic towards their plight, but they didn’t think he would actually bring them lunch. They were almost crying with gratitude as they took the bag out of his hands. “Thanks so much, Beel, you’re a lifesaver!”
Beel grinned. “Of course. I would never let you go hungry.”
Belphegor: “You should take a sick day.”
The human shot Belphie a glare, sniffling. “It’s just a cold, Belphie.”
The Avatar of Sloth had invited himself into their apartment, even though he knew they had work in a few hours. At first, they had been impressed that he had managed to get himself up that earlier, but then they realized that it was probably more likely that he had slept all day the day before and was just nocturnal.
“So?” he asked, stretching himself across their bed. At least he had had the decency to take his shoes off before crashing. “You humans get sick so easily, if you don’t rest up and get better you might die.”
“Not dying from a cold, Belphie,” they replied, rolling their eyes at him in their reflection as they continued getting ready. They talked a big game, but they felt like garbage. It felt like all of the mucus in their body had traveled to their head and someone had run them over with a truck.
“I thought I was stubborn,” Belphie sighed. He sat up suddenly, leaning forward to wrap his arms around their waist and pull them backwards into the bed. They yelped, thrashing a bit before Belphie maneuvered them into a more comfortable position. “You’re sick, so call off. Your shift doesn’t start for another two hours.”
“But-”
“It’s just going to get worse if you don’t rest,” Belphie put a hand to their forehead. “Are you running a fever? I can never tell with humans, are you supposed to be hotter or colder than demons?”
“How would I know that?” they grumbled, making a valiant but ultimately futile effort to not sink down into the pillows. Belphie was good at making them sleepy on a good day, but when they were sick? Game over. And maybe they did feel a little warm…
“Ugh, fine, maybe I should call off.” they huffed, reaching for their phone. “How dare you be right?”
“Sorry I make better decisions than you do.”
“Don’t make fun of my choices, you were one of them.”
#obey me#obey me shall we date#obey me lucifer#obey me mammon#obey me leviathan#obey me levi#obey me satan#obey me asmodeus#obey me asmo#obey me beel#obey me beelzebub#obey me belphegor#obey me belphie
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Hustlin'
A/N: I posted an excerpt of this a while back and finally got to finish it. Let me know what you think.
Pairing: Mammon x GN!MC
Rating: Mature
Contains: Cursing, gambling, smut but it's not super explicit
Words: 3367
✨Masterlist✨Drabbles✨
“Mam?” You say as you enter the secondborn’s bedroom. The white-haired demon looks up at you from where he’s bent over the pool table, about to take a shot.
“Just a sec.” He concentrates and starts to line up his cue. He tests it. Once, twice. Then he strikes. The cue ball slams into the pyramid and when it breaks, three balls go rolling into pockets. Mammon beams, then looks up at you.
“Nice job!” You say, clapping your hands for him. You notice the way his cheeks darken at your praise.
“Thanks. So, what’s up, human?” He leans his cue up against the table to sling an arm around your shoulders. You’d come to ask if he wanted to grab dinner together, but… Now you’re getting a better, slightly evil, idea.
“Uh, actually, I was going to ask if you could teach me that.” You say sheepishly.
Mammon raises a brow. “You wanna play pool with The Great Mammon?”
You nod enthusiastically. “Yeah.”
“Alright, I’ll do 20 Grimm a ball.” He says with a grin.
You pout. “I don’t have any cash right now. How ‘bout an IOU?”
“Nope, don’t take IOUs.” He shakes his head.
“You give plenty of them. And you never pay them back.” You point out.
“I know. ’s why I don’t take ‘em.” He grins.
“Mammonnnn.” You whine. He just laughs and wraps his arms around you. Then he screeches when you pinch his butt.
“Don’t fuckin’ do that!” He says, jumping away from you.
You stick your bottom lip out. “Can’t I get a cute little human discount or something?”
“Nope. I don’t give discounts either.” He answers. Then he mutters under his breath, “’specially not to people who pinch me in the ass.”
“Well… Instead of playing for cash, maybe we could make a bet instead.” You suggest, sitting down on the arm of the sofa.
Mammon’s ears perk up, just like you knew they would. “A bet?” He says, tilting his head. “What kinda bet?”
Now that you have his attention, you beckon him closer. He comes to stand in front of you. And he looks into your eyes, eager to hear the wager you have in mind.
“How about… For every ball the other person gets into a… Hole thingy, you have to take something off?” You say, eyes hooded as you fiddle with the lapels of his jacket.
Mammon swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, “You wanna play strip pool?”
“Will you teach me?” You say, batting your lashes.
He considers it for a moment, chewing his bottom lip. “And we take off one thing after every ball?”
You nod again, slowly. Mammon licks his lips. He likes the odds, but… Should he really make such a bet with someone who doesn’t know how to play? Before he thinks about it too much, he smirks and sticks his hand out. You give him yours and you shake on it. “Deal.”
“Rack ‘em up!” You say, excitedly grabbing a spare cue from the wall rack.
“‘Rack ‘em up?’” He repeats, raising a brow.
“What? I’ve seen movies.” You say, rubbing the little blue cube on the end of your cue.
He chuckles and goes to reset the balls. If you were playing for money, he would feel bad for taking advantage, but… You just had to go and tempt him with his two favorite things— Gambling and naked MC.
“Alright, I’ll let you break. So, get over here.” He says, jerking his chin towards the head of the table.
You oblige and go to stand in front of him. “Show me what to do?”
“Sure.” Mammon puts his hands on your hips and has you bend slightly, then takes your cue from you. He demonstrates by laying the stick on his right thumb. “Hold it like this,” He breathes in your ear.
You look over your shoulder at him, “I put it on my thumb?”
“That’s how I do it.” He answers with a shrug.
You take the stick and hold it differently, with your fingers on the felt. “This is how they do it in movies.”
“You gonna trust movies over me?” Mammon asks, wrapping his arms around your waist. He pulls you flush against him and kisses your temple.
“You might tell me wrong so I’ll lose.” You point out.
“I wouldn’t lie to ya.” Mammon says, his voice husky as he presses his lips to your neck. You start to tilt your head for him, then realize what he’s doing.
“Hey! Don’t try to distract me.” You grumble, swatting him away. He snickers as he backs away with his hands in the air.
“I’ll stand over here,” He says from the other end of the table. “So you won’t be distracted.”
“Good.” You say.
“Go ahead, bust ‘em up.” Mammon says, waving his hand. He watches you adjust your grip on the cue.
“I hit the white one into the rest… Right?” You ask, making Mammon smile.
“Yep.” He says with a nod.
“Like this?” You pass the cue slowly through your fingers, waiting for his approval.
“Uhuh.” He closes his eyes and nods again. “Now, don’t be disappointed if—”
The loud crack of the cue ball striking the pyramid cuts him off. He opens his eyes and watches as all the balls start to bang off one another. After a couple seconds, the two ball bounces off the wall and rolls into a corner pocket.
“I did it!” You shout, clapping your hands.
Mammon smiles, though he looks a bit bewildered. “Good job. Uh, now, you get to go again.”
“Really?”
“Yep. Them’s the rules.” Mammon says.
“What about our rules?” You say expectantly.
Mammon makes a confused face, “Huh?”
“Take off your jacket, babe.” You say with a wink.
“Oh, right.” Mammon flushes slightly as he starts to shrug out of it. He dumps the jacket on the couch. “Happy now?”
“Mmhmm.” You grin, eyeing him like a hunter would its prey. Mammon looks at the floor and you start to chalk your stick again.
“Oh, right. Now, the next one that goes down determines who’s solids and who’s stripes. So, any of them is fair game.” Mammon says, trying to help. He’s so cute.
“Oh, okay.” You smile. And right away, you determine that your next target is the three. You smile and decide to mess with him. “Three in the side pocket,” You say, pointing out its route with the end of the cue before you line up the shot.
“You don’t have to call—”
The ball is sunk before he can finish his sentence, leaving him speechless. He gives you a wide-eyed look, like a deer in headlights. And you watch his face and he puts it together. You can practically hear the gears turning in his pretty head.
“You know how to play pool, don’t ya?”
“I do.” You laugh.
“Fuck.” Mammon curses. “I can’t believe you suckered me that easily.”
“Aw, don’t feel too bad. I learned from the best scammer in the entire Devildom.” You grin.
“Don’t make me feel any better.” He scoffs, then takes off his glasses. He slides one leg into the collar of his shirt.
“Aw,” You click your tongue shamelessly. “I was hoping for the shirt next.”
“You don’t get to pick what I take off! It’s bad enough that you’re hustlin’ your own boyfriend!” Mammon exclaims.
“Hustling? Is that what I’m doing?” You ask, tilting your head. Now that you’ve picked solids, you shoot again, sinking the six. Mammon sighs and starts to take off one of his boots.
“Am I going to get to shoot, or are ya just gonna strip me?” He asks, dropping his shoe on the ground. He’s aggravated. And a little horny. But he ain’t telling you that, he hates being played!
You consider it. It would be fun to sweep the board and strip him down. But, since you feel bad for lying, you decide not to. You intentionally botch your next shot, sinking the cue ball. “There baby. Go ahead.”
Mammon grumbles, “Finally gonna let me play?”
“Yep. Do your worst.” You challenge.
“I will.” He promises.
Boy, does he keep it. He pockets three balls in less than a minute and suddenly you’re missing both shoes and your hoodie. Okay… Maybe you shouldn’t have provoked him.
He looks sort of dangerous like this. You can imagine him in any pool hall in the world, playing against pool sharks and rookies alike. Instead he’s playing you, and if you don’t think of something, he’s going to win. You’re sort of even now, each of you missing three items. You’re standing off to the side, watching as Mammon tries to decide his next move.
The look in his eyes is a familiar one. He’s so turned on he can’t fucking stand it! And you can tell. And he knows you can tell. He looks over at you and you smile sweetly. While he walks around the table to line up his shot, you curl your fingers around your cue. Then start to slide your hand up and down it, nice and slow.
“Just watch this, you’re not gonna get another shot.” Mammon declares confidently. Then he looks up and sees your hand sliding up and down the pool stick. He makes a strangled noise and nearly drops his own cue. You hold in a laugh as he fumbles with it.
He tries to ignore you and goes to take his shot, but at the last second he glances over, just in time to watch you rub your thumb over the tip of the cue. His hand moves without his permission, slamming the cue ball with so much force that it bounces off the table and rolls until it hits the base of the stairs.
“Damn it!” He curses, slapping the felt with his hand.
“Aw, babe. Did something distract you?” You ask, feigning innocence.
“No!” He shouts quickly. “I— I’ve only got one boot on. My feet ain’t even and it threw me off.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll even you out.” You say with a smile as you pick the white ball up and set it on the table. You sink the five next, it was an easy shot. Mammon grumbles something about cheating and being sexy, but removes his other boot regardless.
Next, you take a moment to think before taking out the four. Mammon huffs and leans against the table. He removes one sock and starts to stand up. “Both socks count as one,” You say, chalking your cue again.
“Is that so?” Mammon asks, a snowy brow arched. You smirk.
“Wouldn’t want you to be uneven again,” You tease. Mammon exhales through his nose and gives an indignant look. Then rips off his other sock and tosses them both towards the hamper. He moves to stand, but you hold a hand up.
“You don’t have to get up.” You say, punctuating the sentence by sending the seven ball into a pocket. He’s down to just his t-shirt, jeans, and boxers now. He knows there’s no way you’ll accept any of his half a dozen rings. He’s surprised you let him off with the sunglasses earlier.
“Damn it to hell. How are you so good at this?” He asks. Then he sighs and peels his shirt off over his head to reveal his chest.
“Mm,” You sigh at the sight. “There it is.”
Mammon flushes. “Shut up.”
“Nope.” You say with a pop. “Now, you just sit there and be a pretty boy for me, okay?”
Your last ball is crowded by a couple of Mammon’s. There’s no way… Wait a sec, maybe if you can… You start to line up what’s hopefully an incredible trick shot. But, just as you start to slam your cue forwards, Mammon moans, high and pitchy, and your shot is ruined. The cue ball spins off to the side and stops before it hits anything.
When you look up, Mammon is still sitting on the edge of the table. But now, his back is arched and his head thrown back. And his hands…
You swallow deeply when you realize what he’s doing. “Are you… playing with your nipples right now?”
He gives you a sideways glance, his eyes lidded. “Me? No, I— Nnng. Ahhh,” He cuts off with another moan. “I’m just sitting here being, mm, pretty for ya.” He says, fingers twisting his nipples.
Well, he’s not wrong. The light over the table casts a glow over him. His dark skin and toned muscles, the position he’s put himself in, the sounds he’s making… He’s the prettiest thing you’ve ever fucking seen.
You cough. “It’s your turn.”
“What’s the matter, human?” He asks, taking his cue.
“You’re a cheater.” You say.
“Uhuh. Everyone knows that.” He admits. Then he leans in close to you and you know now that you’re the prey. You always have been.
You shudder at the thought, then look away.
“What? It’s okay for you to give your cue stick a handy but I can’t touch my own chest?” He says, lifting your chin.
You bite your lip and look away. “Oh, just… Take your fucking shot.”
He laughs as he does. And manages to sink two balls at once. Your face falls.
“Hmm, I think that leaves you in what? Just underwear?” Mammon asks cockily, leaning on his cue like it’s a cane.
Unfortunately, he’s right. You step away and pull your shirt off. Then push your pants down and step out of them. You feel his eyes on you. Mammon gives a low whistle, which makes your face heat.
“Ain’t fun, is it?” He says as he looks you up and down. Your entire body starts to feel hot. Luckily, he’s just as affected. You can tell.
“Baby?” You say.
“Hm?”
“I love you.”
Mammon turns back towards you and he looks upset. “Don’t start trying to trick me like that now. That’s fucked up.”
“I’m not. I swear.” You say, moving closer to him. When you wind your arms around his neck, your bare chests touch and you can feel his arousal against your hip. And in the way his hands come to squeeze your waist.
“I love ya too.” He breathes. Then you pull him down for a kiss. When you finally take your tongue out of his mouth, he looks torn between finishing the game and throwing you on the table to have his way with you. Finally though, he makes his decision and turns back towards the table. You should’ve known he wouldn’t give up the game.
You sigh softly. Then, as he bends over to take another shot, your eyes are drawn to the back of his jeans. He turns to look at you with a soft smile, then starts to aim. Before he can, you grab two handfuls of ass and he shrieks.
“MC!” He throws his cue across the table in surprise and his shot is absolutely fucked. Mammon turns to glare at you, betrayed. “You said you loved me.”
“I do, baby. I love you so, so much. That wasn’t a trick.” You peck his lips, but he’s not convinced. His brows are still knitted together. “Okay, maybe the butt groping was out of line.” You admit, then you shrug. “It’s not my fault you have a great ass.”
He can’t argue there. So, he just rolls his eyes and steps aside. “Go on then.”
You’ve got one ball left. And Mammon makes no move to stop you from sinking it. Instead, he stands completely still beside you. And, once the ball is down, he undoes his jeans and lets them slide down… Your eyes widen and he looks a bit embarrassed.
“Guess I didn’t have boxers on.” He says. “I can go some, if you want.”
“Don’t you fucking dare,” You say. All you need is to sink the eight ball and he’s yours. You glance back over at him. He’s completely nude, save for his jewelry. A familiar shimmer catches your attention. “Fuck, that damn dick piercing.” You whine.
He grins, “You love it.”
“Hm, you’re naked. Does that mean I win?” You ask, ready to jump his bones and fuck him silly.
“Hell no. There’s still balls on the table.” He says, shaking his head.
You ogle him for a moment, watching the way his dick twitches under your gaze. “You don’t seem like you’re interested in the game…”
Mammon’s face warms. “Either way, we ain’t done until you sink the eight. So get on it.”
You turn to examine the table. The eight ball is wedged between two striped balls and the wall. You don’t particularly care if you ‘win,’ because you know that Mammon can pick up the slack quickly if you fail. And either way, the outcome is the same. You’re going to fuck no matter who drops the last ball.
You take a shot, and all three balls rattle. Miraculously, the black ball bangs around three corners then finally sinks into a corner pocket. Mammon is on you before it hits the bottom. He sets you up on the table and puts himself between your legs. One of his knees grinds away at your crotch and your eyes roll.
He presses against you until you’re lying down and climbs over you to give you desperate, heated kisses. Your hands are in his hair and his arms on either side of you, holding him up. When you finally break apart, you pant for a moment before saying, “Bed.”
“What? Not comfy enough for ya?” He asks, a gleam in his eyes.
“No, it’s hard as a rock. Besides, we’ll ruin the felt.” You say.
Mammon takes you to the bed instead. And once you’re there, he captures your lips in his and he grinds his hips into yours wildly. Both of you cum before you can even take your underwear off, which is slightly embarrassing. But your ridiculous form of foreplay had gotten you both a lot closer than you realized. As you come down from your highs, Mammon kisses your shoulder. Then he sighs as he flops down next to you.
“What’s wrong?” You ask, still trying to recover your breath.
“You know, I haven’t lost a game of pool in over two hundred years.” He says.
“I find that hard to believe. You seemed to have an awfully hard time concentrating.” You tease, rolling your head to lay it on his chest.
He gives you a look. “Are you kiddin’ me? If you hadn’t pulled all those little stunts, I woulda destroyed you.”
“I don’t know… I think I’m better at pool.” You say, taking one of his hands so you can play with his fingers. You start to twist one of his rings.
“No way, I’m the Avatar of Greed for a reason.” He says.
“I guess so…” You trail off and he snatches his hand away.
“Don’t believe me? Double or nothin’ I could beat you, as long as you don’t try anything.” Mammon dares.
You raise a brow. “What is ‘double’ if we’re playing for sex?”
He thinks for a moment, then whispers in your ear. Your eyes widen. “Rack ‘em up.” You say, already starting to climb out of bed.
Mammon laughs and follows you.
It turns out that he’s right, he is the Avatar of Greed for a reason. And without dirty tricks— which were so below you, MC— you don’t have a leg to stand on. He beats you with four balls still on the table and pulls you back over to the bed for round two.
“Oh fuck, MC!” He squirms under you.
“You won. Why am I topping?” You ask, thrusting into him.
His eyes roll back. “Ah, ah, this, nng, is what I wanted.”
You laugh and continue to pound into him, not giving him a moment to catch his breath until you’re both finished. You fall onto the bed beside him and try to catch your breath. He’s still panting himself, completely fucked out.
“Hey, Mammon?” You say after a few moments.
“Huh?”
“Wanna teach me how to play poker tomorrow?”
-
My Ko-Fi is in my pinned post! Thank you for reading. Please Reblog, it really helps me.
#mammon x reader#mammon smut#obey me mammon#mammon obey me#mammon x mc#mammon#obey me smut#bottom mammon
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platonic yandere Miguel & peter, that has a adopted kidnapped daughter, that has really bad ptsd?
and they try to like comfort her in any way they can, but can't because reader doesn't like, any kind of physical touch or affection.
and so they like gently drug her so she's woozy, and can't really think properly and they take advantage of that and just cuddle with her.
Miguel saw you asleep on the couch and smiled softly.
It had taken so long for you to feel safe around him and Peter.
There was still a long way to go but at least you weren't trying to run away anymore.
Miguel knelt beside the couch and gently ran his hand through your hair.
You nuzzled into his hand a little, making him smile.
But then you opened your eyes and woke up, quickly scurrying away from him.
"Sweetheart, it's okay! It's just me!" He said before you quickly ran to your room and slammed the door.
Miguel sighed as he saw Peter coming through the door with groceries.
“Everything okay, where’s Y/N?” He asked as Miguel stood up and helped Peter with the bags he was holding.
“I tried to get close to Y/N when she was sleeping but she freaked out so she locked herself in her room.” Miguel muttered as he started putting the groceries away.
"I know you might not agree with this but I thought maybe we could give her something that makes her drowsy. That way when we comfort her she won't be able to run away, it'll be like exposure therapy. It sounds harsh but she'll slowly see we aren't trying to hurt her." Peter suggested as Miguel found the sleeping pills he had bought.
"Maybe it's a good idea." Miguel muttered, staring at the box of pills.
"We can just put some in her dinner, start it small and see how we go okay?" Peter replied as Miguel nodded in agreement.
--
You sat quietly eating your dinner at the dining table while Miguel and Peter watched you.
"Why are you acting so weird?" You muttered to them as they quickly looked away.
"Nothing, sweetheart. We're just making sure you eat." Miguel replied as you looked back down and continued to eat.
After you were done you were about to go to your room before you stumbled a little.
You held yourself up on the wall and groaned softly.
Miguel quickly ran to you and helped you stand up.
"Oh, sweetheart. Are you okay? Let Papi help, darling." He whispered as he slowly picked you up in his arms.
You tried to fight against him but you were getting too weak.
"I don't feel good." You whispered as your body started getting weaker.
"Shh, it's okay. Let's get you on the couch, love." He whispered as Peter sat down and Miguel place you against him.
You tried to get up but Peter wrapped his arm around your waist.
"No, sweetie. Just stay here, let us help." He whispered, his arm securely around you as you whined softly.
Miguel sat on the other side of you and started running his hand through your hair.
"See? Doesn't that feel nice? We're not hurting you, we would never hurt you." Miguel whispered as he watched you slowly relax.
"That's it, sweetie. Just let us take care of you." Peter whispered, you leant against him and slowly closed your eyes making them smile.
"Just relax, love."
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how about “i’m sorry but no” ? also, the obikin was adorable on the last lumberjack ficlet but i have to say i absolutely love how quinlan saw a depressed cold little english professor looking meow meow and went “alright im adopting this one now he’s mine” like a bedraggled little kitten you find sitting in a box on the street corner
hi hello!!! this is "i'm sorry, but no" prompt fill, set in my fix-a-sith au, where jedi feel like sith can be cured of the dark side like an illness, primarily through constant contact with someone Light. aka usually through marriage. obi-wan s brought in to marry newly fallen sith anakin (this is the tag)
(ps thank you for this lumberjack anakin au love!! this was absolutely quin's thought process in that ficlet!)
(1.3k)
Anakin—Vader, but Anakin sometimes, and Anakin now—has a very good feeling about the course of tonight’s events and what they mean.
He played very nice with all of Obi-Wan’s friends, even Vos. Even Ventress, who’s really more like friend by association. Friend by being married to Vos, which is a double black mark in Anakin’s mind but apparently means that Obi-Wan gives him very disappointed eyes whenever he growls at her.
So tonight, when they’d all gone out to dinner, Anakin had kept all of his displeasure to himself. He’d been polite to their server, had grunted out a laugh in response to Vos’ jokes, and even allowed Ventress to touch his husband’s arm to get his attention. Attention that, until that moment, had been completely Vader’s.
He hadn’t even Force-choked her in a way that could be easily tied back to him, though she’d coughed and spluttered when she’d taken a drink of her water a few moments later.
Obi-Wan had glared at him like he knew what he was doing with his hands beneath the table, but Anakin had smiled back sunnily, brightest blue eyes firmly in play. Like seemed to always be the case, the sight of Anakin’s blue eyes had seemed to dissolve Obi-Wan’s ire, and then his husband had reached across the space between them to lay a hand on Anakin’s thigh.
So Anakin has an incredibly good feeling about tonight because Obi-Wan has been keeping a hold on him throughout dinner, dessert, drinks afterwards. It’s been a hand on his thigh, it’s been a weight of an arm brushing the small of his back, it’s been fingers entangling with his own.
Despite the fact that they’ve been married for almost one standard year, Anakin can count on one hand the amount of times his husband has kissed him Casual touches have slowly made their way into their everyday communications, but kissing and any intimate sort of relationship has been kept firmly and jealously defended, with Anakn on the wrong side of the fighting.
His husband is too good, he thinks. He knows more than a few Jedi spouses have been tempted by their Sith partners to consummate their marriage bed. Force, he knows Ventress seduced Vos within their first week together.
But Obi-Wan Kenobi has resisted his every advance. Anakin would take it personally if he didn’t know just how good his husband was.
So tonight—filled with the touches, the looks, the reedy swallows and stuttering—is unexpected.
Unexpected but a gift to be treasured.
Treasured and consumed.
They are barely through the doors into their quarters before Anakin slams Obi-Wan up against the wall just to the side, hands sliding from his shoulders down to his waist as he presses against his body.
His lipss find his husband’s easily, his mouth already open and ready for the taking. Something inside of Anakin purrs as he tastes his husband. He has been missing the taste of him. He has been craving it and now it’s his again. Obi-Wan is his.
Obi-Wan has always been his, but now the man is kissing him back instead of denying it. Now the man’s mouth is too busy for words as his hands slide through Anakin’s hair and push his head to the angle he wants it most, and Anakin would contort his body into any position Obi-Wan desires if it means the man keeps kissing him like that.
It’s been so long since anyone’s kissed him. He can’t really remember if he’s always been this sensitive to the action or if Obi-Wan is especially good at coaxing these noises out of him.
Either way, the whimper he makes when Obi-Wan’s tongue drags across his bottom lip belongs to him. The breathless exhale that’s punched out of him when Obi-Wan pushes away to nip at his jaw is his as well. They all belong to Obi-Wan now because Obi-Wan is his husband, which makes Obi-Wan his.
He allows him to pull away with the greatest of reluctance. His body feels like one giant nerve, everywhere they’re touching somehow sending lightning through his veins. But the good sort of lightning. The kind that makes his chest sing instead of burn.
“Obi-Wan,” he murmurs, allowing his head to drop back, exposing the line of his throat to the Jedi’s perusal. “Obi-Wan.”
And then Obi-Wan does the unthinkable. He pulls away.
Anakin can feel his chest moving against his own, up and down, ragged and unfiltered in a way that makes Anakin’s mouth water to taste the sweat that will bead up on his husband’s chest, chase the oxygen as it enters his husband’s parted lips.
He wants more; he wants closer; he wants now.
He doesn’t understand why suddenly there’s a hand pressing against his chest, and he snarls his ddisspleasure at the distance it creates between their bodies. He can feel his husband’s desire as if it were hiss own. It is his own. It belongs to him, it—-
“Anakin, no,” his husband says, far too loudlyand firmly for the soft quiet of their quarters. Anakin’s eyes narrow, lips pulling back from his teeth because he’s being denied again, he shouldn’t—he cannot—-
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan murmurs, softer. “Anakin, I’m sorry, but no. We cannot. I cannot.”
Anakin knows such a statement is final, that he cannot push his husband to accept him like this. Consent. He knows it’s important. Distantly, in some small part of his mind that isn’t crushed by the disappointment of being pushed away or angry at the denial, he knows listening to Obi-Wan is important, integral even.
He pushes himself away before he can do something stupid and impulsive like hurt Obi-Wan, just because the hurt in his chest feels too big to be contained within himself.
He breathes deeply, in and out, just like the Jedi teachers have taught him.
“I’m sorry, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, and the words feel like they cut him deep and in a way no healer could ever cure. “I cannot take advantage of you in this…intoxicated state.”
“I’ve not had two drinks,” Anakin mutters, hand against his own throat as he turns away, a paltry attempt to ground himself.
“You know I’m not talking about alcohol, dear one,” his husband replies, and Vader breaks.
“Do not call me that!” he snaps, spinning back around to glare wetly at Obi-Wan. “As if you have some sort of—of familiarity with me even as you hold me at a distance, one that grows larger and larger by the day!”
“That is not true! I have let you in—”
“Everywhere except your bed!” Vader cuts him off, advancing upon him quickly and boxing him up against the wall. “You guard yourself so jealously, Kenobi. I ache for you and yet you push me away as if I were a youngling who needs to be minded—”
“You have Fallen, Anakin. You are not in your right mind. The Dark Side tempts and clouds one’s soul—to take advantage of such a thing, to give into my own desires—it would be—”
“Monstrous,” Vader finishes because he’s heard this before. He’s heard this speech so many times he could spout it from memory. “But what if the person who loves you is a monster, Obi-Wan Kenobi? What if that monster wants you to stoop to its level just once—just once—so it’s not alone in its monstrosity?”
Obi-Wan swallows and shakes his head, casting his gaze away. “You are not a monster, Anakin.” He pauses and swallows again. Shakes his head again. “But I cannot afford to lose myself in you, Anakn. For both of our sakes.”
He straightens his robes hurriedly and exits through the doors.
Vader watches him leave. The lamp on the side table throws itself against the wall he had Obi-Wan pressed against only a handful of minutes ago. The burst of anger, once exercised, only makes him feel hollow.
He wishes, not for the first time, that Obi-Wan Kenobi was a little less good.
A little less perfect.
A little more reachable.
A little more....touchable.
#asks#prompt fill#obikin#fix a sith au#anyway obi-wan is currently having a meltdown outsde their quarters over his moment of weakness#and hes trying to decide if he can go to the council and get anakin a new husband#because obviously hes not fit for the role#i also wanted to fit the exchange of vader asking obi-wan “if we had met before i fell when i was a jedi watchman would you have kissed me”#and obi-wan reesponding “darling i would have fallen in love with you”#but couldnt fit it in here#next fix a sith au snippet!!!
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Medicine, in all its gory!